We cling to dead air Holding on to broken promises And feelings that are not there. We dwell on the scars Carved with care across our heart. Trying to place our finger on The beginning of the end Or the end of the start.
Our dearest departed Left us used and disheartened. While the sins of the father Gave birth to disaster Born in the shape of a man. The harder we cling to shadows The more we long for shade. The more our grip shall weaken As those we love slip far away.