Rowing a Dead Horse
Chasing a lie
Tracing our scars
Moaning for help to be held
And every day we feel further away from ourselves
The concrete is wet, I feel too comfortable
My response isn't limited to reactions
And everything dies its little deaths everyday
So with my head up my ass
And my foot on the gas
I set out to write a synonym for loss
Hands caught in the door
And my face on the floor
I'll write one for you
Thanks to Justin (xcore@optonline.net) for these lyrics
