So I'm trying to make
things count. But alone
i can't forfill a dream
held by the four of us.
So I've been carrying
all our load. Your free
hands are pissing me
of for the last time.
And you say wanna
get it through. To
everyone who's got the
power to speak of you.
But all i hear from you
is talk. Talk of some
place where good things
happen to well played
songs. But that's not here.
Being who we are, where
we are. A small circle of
friends, who completely
understand. And if we hold
out long enough, commit
to what we love. We
might pack our bags some
day, yeah. But that's not here.