The heat singes my fingers as the strength leaves my legs
The sweetness hits my nose as I blow worry out of my mouth
I think it's hesitation but it's peace that slows down my hand
Peace is the mini smoke stack that churns stress and life to a smiling cough
I'm not clear but I'd rather be blind then look in my minds eye
I like the discord, the order has grown to heavy to handle

I hope you don't know how much you did for me
I hope you don't know that a laugh and smile made my night
That when your hand found mine after a boot found my head I forgot what put me on the ground
That our dumb little jokes reminded me to not stress
That the look in your eye reminded me to slow down the pace of my mind
That when we shared a smile after being pushed together like my unsteady ocean against your sturdy bluff I felt the sea calm

Clouds and worries
Your home is up in the clouds and my back finally broke, we couldn't stand the stress anymore and it's a long way down
I wasn't tall enough to have my head in the clouds and my feet on the ground
It's a long way down but don't worry, I caught the wings you tossed down and I may be to heavy to fly but I can glide
And Don't worry about the ground it may seem dangerous but I'm still strong
And I like the way the mud feels between my toes and how the grass moves my sole
And don't worry about my back, to make something last it needs to be broken at least once

You have got this far, by some miracle, you have drank and laughed your way through life
But the thing is all you drink is the firriest whiskey and you laugh flames, and almost all your bridges have been burned away
But you still have one, and despite all the gas and searing lies
Your last bridge still stands, it's wrought of the hardest iron and the most cutting guilt
Its held together by the mortar of melted shards of decades of shattered expectations
But here I am, burning and broken, but not breaking

I'm finally beginning to empty, and I feel the pressure lessen like a hose that has drowned your insecurities for too long
I was filled with ideals of grandeur, that I could save you, that my care was the miracle drug, the antibiotic that would save the whole ******* world
But  no drug works forever and I can't fix skyscrapers with my bloodied hands.  But my small, sore hands can clean your windows and sweep your floors
I know that I'm not coward, I can't change everything tomorrow, I can't take away your sorrows and I'm not ******* foolish enough to ask the same
But I'm always here, like a lighthouse  that knows no matter how bright it shines her light everyone won't reach the shore
But all I can do is shine my light

I hope I'm not a savior to you, my arms are sore from crosses and I'm not going on another
******* don't even need saving
You are not a savior to me, I'm too old to be saved, because I think I may have saved myself
You are not the sun, you can't  expel all the darkness, because I'm not scared of the dark anymore
You are stronger than me and I'm fine with that
I won't carry your crosses for you, but I will help you walk your dogs
Your kisses won't  rescue me, but you will make me laugh after a long day

My soul is tailgating the tour van of some band from SF that takes themselves a bit to seriously
My soul is somewhere in the woods, half submerged in a creek, caressed by ancient waters toughened by ancient stones
My soul is in a brand new a stadium, cheering on some logo with 80,000 strangers
My soul is the color of calloused feet and broken promises
My soul is the gorilla beating his chest and in a swing of his fist my soul is a little kid wondering how can he cheapen the family bills

I was taught to stop avalanches and raised to swallow tidal waves
But my hands are black as pitch with frostbite and my lungs are filled with water
But I shake off the cold and throw up the water
There is the avalanche in the shape of a coffin and there is a tsunami of raging expectations
And for ***** sake I’m gonna try

She doesn’t care, never forget that
She doesn’t care how or why or even who
The screaming woman holding the charred remains of her life doesn’t give a **** about go **** yourselves 1000th of year of history
She doesn’t care if she saw the tank rolling over her past before it annihilated her present.
She doesn’t care if she didn’t see the bomb drop
All that matters to her is her baby is dead
She doesn’t care if there was bottle rockets near her home, we dropped a smart bomb on it
And it’s we, don’t forget that either, we build the bombs, we build the anguish, we sell death
And what is the price of a mothers anguish?
Campaign money and 2% for your side next election

My soul is tailgating the tour van of some band from SF that takes themselves a bit to seriously
My soul is somewhere in the woods, half submerged in a creek, caressed by ancient waters toughened by ancient stones
My soul is in a brand new a stadium, cheering on some logo with 80,000 strangers
My soul is the color of calloused feet and broken promises
My soul is the gorilla beating his chest and in a swing of his fist my soul is a little kid wondering how can he cheapen the family bills