Lirama

Hands in line

Arms close, to my side

I'm fighting tides, of an ocean's undertows

And I figure that I might not make it

And I'm waking empty

But I'm seldom speaking

And the words retreat yeah they breathing histories into these stories untold

And my arms unfold

My hands are high

And I'm holding out, but holding up

And I figure that I, figure that I just might make it

And I'm waking empty, but seldom sleeping

And the words repeat, a, breathing histories into stories untold

And I unfold

Say now Quality is what you see now, in the corner of your eye, so

And a Don't be surprised, if you hear the bells ring

As they fall from the sky

They sound bong, bong, bong, bong, ba da, yeah ee yeah a yeah
Ah, bong, bong bong bong, ba da, ee yeah ee yeah yeh
*scat*
And I'm holding up (this time) because I figure that I just make it

And I'm waking empty, but seldom sleeping

And the words repeat-a breathing histories into stories untold

And I unfold