All eyes wake up and I can see the damage bruising down a weathered street and burning in our desperate sleep. And you can talk for miles, and I can walk for days and it doesn't get much better, but sometimes it's ok to end a life, to start alive. Today you always have something else to do. Today was always too much, for these eyes can't hide a million justified lies. They grow warts with age. I'm digging for a fir to set this stage. I'll burn out myself here, open arms singing along to an empty chair. And I'm a firm believer in every wasted breath and every bitter end and every wayward tongue that begs a singalong and everybody's strong to barelt just hang on to. Today you never have anything to do. Today is never enough, for these eyes can't hide a million wasted lies. Stop waiting for an alibi to give when you've been pacified. Get on your feet. Get up and move on.