Clapton let out its last breath and eases to morning light,
and our shattered voices echo and carry like sirens.
Tonight I'm leaning on every word that you've been saying
and it's been holding me up all along.
All the sidesteps and the silences they would all be worth it in the end
and every step we have taken wouldn't need to be doubled up again.
It's always like this, things they fall apart
when we just can't let go.
I'm not looking for familiarity or routine,
just a little consistency,
and for every problem, every mistake,
every regret and every headache
to leave it all behind somehow.
It's always like this,
things they fall apart
when we just can't let go.
Paranoia and anxiety are not on my side,
they never were.
I thought I had all this figured out.
So, this is progress towards perfection.
This is progress towards perfection.
(It's always like this,
things they fall apart
when we just can't let go.)