All I find are worn out lines
Like the ones on your arm
The ones where you shot the most
I am just the same
Only mine are in my head
A blown out track
Where everything goes wrong
Yet we still try
To find some peace
On that empty, broken path
We'll push our plungers
Hoping for something new
Where this time, it will work out
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
All I find are worn out lines
Like the ones on your arm
The ones where you shot the most
I am just the same
Only mine are in my head
A blown out track
Where everything goes wrong
Yet we still try
To find some peace
On that empty, broken path
We'll push our plungers
Hoping for something new
Where this time, it will work out
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