If I fall or trip back into love
|
I’m gonna bring a ladder and gloves
|
So I can climb right back out
|
If there is ever even a shred of doubt
|
I’m gonna bring a flashlight too and
|
Leave a trail and stick to the plan
|
You can get real lost down there if you’re not sure
|
Of the foreign territory
|
There are times when the path gets blurry
|
And the wrong turn feels right
|
|
But who would want me anyway?
|
I’m a lush with broken parts of paper mache
|
I have nothing left to give
|
I don’t think I ever did
|
|
There are times when I wish that someone
|
Would help me find the person I was or give me
|
A detailed map of the streets
|
Spelling out the traffic pattern in beeps
|
I am finding safety in lines
|
They are painted so they can guide
|
Empty tanks and broken wheels take me home
|
Right now I find myself dangling
|
On the edge trying not to fall in
|
Back to where I came from
|
|
But who would want me anyway?
|
I’m a lush with broken parts of paper mache
|
I have nothing left to give
|
I don’t think I ever did
|
|
Because I dove in way too deep with rocks tied to me
|
I should have, had a plan, cause now these ropes won’t come free
|
I do not have faith, If I did then I would feel safe
|
I would wait, here for fate, but it’s conveniently late
|
The bottom is a place that I know too well
|
|
So who would want me anyway?
|
I’m a lush with broken parts and I’ll never change.
|
And I have nothing left to give
|
I don’t think I ever did
|
I wish that I could find the person that I was,
|
I always thought that I’d be happy if I was loved,
|
But I have nothing left to give.
|
I don’t think I ever did
|
|
-----------------
|
Map The Streets
|
| Senses Fail |
