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You sing for me my friend,
Brave and confident,
And there is comfort between your breaths,
And I use sense to help.
But when the days beneath me,
scream into my present,
I must always run the race on my own.
Your warmth is in my bed,
Your voice above the stairs,
And then the touching that comes regret,
Becomes my mercy chair.
Even when the sun is burning,
Saving graces,
I must always run the race on my own.
Oh the sinking and the scent,
Of every saving word.
And the destruction of all convention,
and all corrupted thought.
Dig their nails into my art
and instinct shows,
I must always run the race on my own.
I must always run the race on my own.
I must always run the race on my own.
Brave and confident,
And there is comfort between your breaths,
And I use sense to help.
But when the days beneath me,
scream into my present,
I must always run the race on my own.
Your warmth is in my bed,
Your voice above the stairs,
And then the touching that comes regret,
Becomes my mercy chair.
Even when the sun is burning,
Saving graces,
I must always run the race on my own.
Oh the sinking and the scent,
Of every saving word.
And the destruction of all convention,
and all corrupted thought.
Dig their nails into my art
and instinct shows,
I must always run the race on my own.
I must always run the race on my own.
I must always run the race on my own.
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Oh,the sinking and descent
Of every SAILING word...
But when the days beneath me,
scream into my present (Here he thinks back to the past too much, to when they were together)
And then the touching becomes regret (Once they were close, now he regrets letting himself fall so hard for her/him)
And the destruction of all convention,
and all corrupted thought (There is no longer the conventional relationship and his view has become poisoned by what's happened)
Dig their nails into my optimistic shell (He's now left bitter, and so negative. He's very down)
I must always run the race on my own (He never wants a relationship like that ever again)
it's so beautiful. a great way to end the album.
Oh the sinking and descent,
Of every saving word.
And the destruction of all convention,
and all corrupted thought.
Dig their nails into my optimistic shell
I must always run the race on my own