A line of strands to mark the trail
No one said it would be easy
I must admit I felt the risk
Was better waged in younger seasons
But all these years on the road
Putting hell on a throne
Til every word I say burns like cinders
Well it’s hard to belong to a girl or a song
In the crease of a strangling winter
And it’s hard to be lost
Stranger still to belong
On the strings of a twisting line
Along the way the turns were sharp
No one said it would be easy
I must admit I thought the trip
Was better made in younger seasons
But all these years in pursuit
Made a man of a fool
til every word I say is unwaivered
Well it’s hard to belong to a girl or a song
In the crease of a strangling winter
And it’s strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong
On the strings of a twisting line
When the path I have made
From the grass to the grave
I will love you still
And when the sand turns to glass
And all that’s left is the past
I will love you still
compositores: CHRISTOPHER ANDREW CARRABBA
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