The paths of which we choose sculpt the very being of our breathing life.
The embers will solidify,
Build brick upon our strength of which we didn’t have before.
I'm living in my head too much.
Keep wishing for the way it used to be.
If only I could turn back the clock and re-illustrate what was right for me.
This is going nowhere.
Little soldier boy, come marching home.
Brave soldier your presence is longed for.
In the eyes of evil, we lift up hope and make weightless to rise above the smoke.
I’ll use the creases in my palm as a map.
These hands will make moves, my body will act.
The sweat lets me know I'm still alive.
And as I wipe, it will wear away those roads until nothing is left.
But never will these hands forget what they've met.
I'm living in my head too much.
Keep wishing for the way things used to be.
If only I could turn back the clock and re-illustrate what was meant for me.
This is going nowhere
And slowly crumbles beneath me
From everything I’ve seen that’s left me.
I use to believe everything I’d need would follow me.
Weary not,
For even if our hearts ache, we will push on while we pull the burdens along.
These waters from reservoirs and streams are used to wash away what hurts,
Breaking down the barriers that stand before the body of man.
And by the end we will lay in the midst of courage to strive and rebuild ourselves into the men and women of certainty.
Though we may be momentarily knocked off our feet,
We'll keep wheeling, we'll keep wheeling.
For these hands that have become so powerful that on contact raise hairs
And the words that are too afraid to leave the mind of others are the very same that I so proudly exclaim.
This cups our heart,
Fill it up, spill it out and restart.
supported by 5 fans who also own “Never Will These Hands Forget”
I am hopelessly addicted to this EP, not that i wish to fight it:) its a good addiction, like "crack-light." All the lovely highs and horrible cravings without the need for rehab. FULL CD PLZ! Colt Anderson
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