: The biting, blowing cold Cuts directly to my soul My circulation slows And I feel old Until the spring I'll be hating everything Without a song to
: When it's light we are defined. Everything exposed but what we hide. Now is the time to come unfurled. Swallow down your pride and let it go. There
: We've walked too far to fall to our knees. If there's an answer, it's lost on me. Is freedom so abstract that it can't be found without keeping someone
a worthy doormat Just let it go, let it be Close your eyes and get some sleep There's a good chance that the sun will rise tomorrow Write a song, drink
: I'm drunk on the vestiges of a dying scene What's left: impressions of what it really means. To be a part of something bigger than the system that
: My mind's at home here in this cold November breeze. This frost, it stabs my skin, and grays the branches of these trees. My breath is a ghost as it
: It seems so clinical; the things we do are minimal. Half-heart smiles and token wit, But we're not saying shit. Our eyes bat back and forth, we're
: I understand what you're going through And I wish that I could help you But all we are is hollow If we don't learn to make it full I know it's hard
: It's time to make something out of nothing. It's time to stop complaining. It's time to leave this fucking grief miles behind. There's nothing worth
: This winter's filled with thoughts of you All the same reminders; all the heartache we've been through I shudder when I think back to those days It
