we hold tight to the ghosts in the stories,
we do everything that we can to keep them alive.
we take turns in turning the pages,
in reading the words, in showing the pictures,
the failures and the wait, those days have past
set sail towards somewhere we will to come fast.
we hold tight to bits of the past,
bits that keep the days from aging that fast.
we take turns in setting the course,
what borders to cross and what places to head to.
with their threads and regrets and the guns that they pull
when they see that you're on your way out from this house that's on fire.
from fights you keep losing, that's just a last try for the sand not to slip through their hands.
and with hundreds of words, they keep holding you back
and with promises that they keep you off track, but you're better than that
and you're better off happy than waking up guilty of faults and mistakes that never were real
the failures and the wait, those days have past
set sail towards somewhere we will come to fast.
the failures and the wait, those days have past
set sail towards somewhere we will to come fast.
with our hands tied to,
weights that pull and drag towards dark waters
with our hands tied to,
ropes reaching for depths from which we can't come back
with our hands tied to,
weights that pull and drag towards dark waters
if yours are looser tied,
loosen mine and bring us back
back up