Spent my whole life searching for you
But still my hands are bare
And still, I’m in need of repair
I get the feeling I’d give my life for just a truth
The vines begin to grow
Pulling me down
Into the deep, dark, underground
I don’t want you to help me, I’d rather not let you know
The ways in which I tried
All the years I fled
The tears I never cried
And the blood I never bled
That every word was pried
Right from my hands, before it was ever said.
And every word was pride.
A dream that was only meant to be dreamt.