Preview
Stranded in the tempest searching for shore.Here in this fucking wasteland aching for more.
These bodies feel tired, these streets feel bleak underneath these broken feet.
Hoping for light to guide us home, when everything else seems dark.
But how is this home when it’s so damn cold, when everything is the same?
Fuck routine gets old.
This gets old.
We’re torn between what we’ve got and what we dream, the clock is ticking and we’re nearly out of time.
Because these hearts they aren’t as strong as they once were, when they were young.
We’ll never leave behind everything that made us who we are, the people, the places, that shaped our lives.
But now it’s time to push on.
Breathing the same air that’s now turned stale, with remorse and regret our dreams grow pale.
This wasteland takes its toll.
We’re torn between what we’ve got and what we dream.
The clock is ticking and we’re nearly out of time.
We discovered to guide us home when everything else seemed dark.
But this is my home no matter how cold it gets, it will hold my soul.