We're all too small to talk to god
8 DAYS
I'll not sell my days for your hours
Undo all my broken promises for a golden failure
A million stones of fragmented words
Lined up across the threshold of my secrets
Hindsight gives me a new outlook and who I used to idolise
And all those I that should be in the hallways of my mind
Have passed away for better or worse
Leaving me to find my own way down roads absent from all the maps
New shoes feel like cuffs on my wrists separating me from the world
The way home branded in my thoughts by touch
Ink stains on my fingers as the front door key
I'll not sell my days for your hours
Undo all my broken promises for a golden failure
A million stones of fragmented words
Lined up across the threshold of my secrets
Hindsight gives me a new outlook and who I used to idolise
And all those I that should be in the hallways of my mind
Have passed away for better or worse
Leaving me to find my own way down roads absent from all the maps
New shoes feel like cuffs on my wrists separating me from the world
The way home branded in my thoughts by touch
Ink stains on my fingers as the front door key