I guess I might have lied when I swore to forget that the price of freedom is a ***** we've misleadingly named Regret
and I think I must have meant it when I cleverly defied, "Your gods voice is most deceiving and his fountains are all dry!" But I may have stretched the truth the moment that I said I wouldn't miss your presence until they pronounced you dead
And as my life unfolds me a broken stream of starts it tickles my heart oddly to know your days grow gray as mine begin to spark. But maybe I still see you in the corner of my mind and your whispered wisdom from the past sneaks in from time to time
Umbilical chains rooted in nostalgia tether us to this weight but maybe mutual understanding will not evolve too late And though you are my anchor the skies my spirit found but how I wish that you could see this high above the ground.