I was told that these people were what was painted
There's hope in this blood and fine lines
And there's pain in the hope that's draped
Over the woodlands,
This future will never be what you wanted.
Over the skyline,
This life is bought and pay for,
And you sold the hours in between.
Sometimes they move too fast to understand.
This is all so slow compared to what I knew...
My eyes are rested,
And I can see they take this all for granted.