My heart ****** my rib cage every time I’m pulled back down to the road,
I want to move past this hill but my path won’t go.
I’m afraid I’ve become complacent in this frame that’s not my own.
The Lord knows I’m as impatient as they come,
I will try to refrain from believing in my bones.
Fill me to the brim, and I know I’ll overflow.
Take over the faults that have always reaped anything I’ve sewn.
You’ve set the morning over every high and low.
All I want is to go home, but I don’t know where that is.
None of these beds feel right, nothing seems to fit in.
Nothing shines quite like gold should.
Maybe I wasn’t ever made to fit this mold.
Maybe I misunderstood.