At this point it doesn’t even matter anymore.
I’ve given up enough to make it easy.
And although my optimism has been wounded it has not been broken,
I don’t see the need to call it quits.
I’m not stubborn, I’m determined to keep the wheels inside me turning,
Traveling on the road that I see fit.
Looking at my hands and knowing what I’ve touched
I wonder how long
Before they are clean enough
'Cause I know what lies ahead.
My irresponsibility is matched only by
The weighing guilt of my procrastination.
I’m finally feeling real,
I can taste the blood and my age is tangible.
I’m sure that my Achilles heel is knowing what I know and that’s too much.
Looking at my hands and knowing what I’ve touched
I wonder how long
Before they are clean enough
'Cause I know what lies ahead.
It didn’t happen right, but unless it happened wrong, it wouldn’t have happened at all.
Looking at my hands and knowing what I’ve touched
I wonder how long
Before they are clean enough
'Cause I know what lies ahead.
How long 'till I know that my hands are clean?
Look what I've done.
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