Still sitting there with your legs crossed,
not paying attention to me.
And when we talk, just curious, would this end up like always does?
It's all the wrong I've done.
All the wrong I'll do.
Keeps me from trying.
It keeps me quiet.
Throw out your arms to each side.
It's easier to let things go.
And when we talk think what we say: there's questions then silence
in silence we remain.
It's all the wrong I've done and all the wrong I'll do.
Keeps me from trying.
Keeps me from calling you.
Something I just found out.
Something you know by now.
Hope makes you so strong.
Strength keeps you alone, far away.
Far away.

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