| Lingering in your garden here our tired hands are bound | |
| To toiling without pleasure in this murky earth we found | |
| Distance is at fault here and its slowly gaining ground | |
| So stay here at my table till proximity is sound | |
| Keep it in, keep your last breathe, make it worthwhile | |
| I was looking for something, when I was pulling my skin off | |
| So if god is an acronym, some giver of damnation | |
| Then why even bother with the concept of man | |
| Ideals have run wild, escaped from our heads | |
| And with the chosen so few should it warrant attempt? | |
| And what if my fear is all that I am? | |
| A poison to ease what small conscience I have left | |
| But soon we’ll find we lived and died with the world in our hands | |
| You left all your children out | |
| You left all your children fending for our precious lives | |
| I am the fortunate one, left with the blood in my skin | |
| You are the only thing I hope is real in a dark world | |
| I am the fortunate one, left with the blood in my limbs | |
| You are the only thing I hope is real in a dark world |
| Lingering in your garden here our tired hands are bound | |
| To toiling without pleasure in this murky earth we found | |
| Distance is at fault here and its slowly gaining ground | |
| So stay here at my table till proximity is sound | |
| Keep it in, keep your last breathe, make it worthwhile | |
| I was looking for something, when I was pulling my skin off | |
| So if god is an acronym, some giver of damnation | |
| Then why even bother with the concept of man | |
| Ideals have run wild, escaped from our heads | |
| And with the chosen so few should it warrant attempt? | |
| And what if my fear is all that I am? | |
| A poison to ease what small conscience I have left | |
| But soon we' ll find we lived and died with the world in our hands | |
| You left all your children out | |
| You left all your children fending for our precious lives | |
| I am the fortunate one, left with the blood in my skin | |
| You are the only thing I hope is real in a dark world | |
| I am the fortunate one, left with the blood in my limbs | |
| You are the only thing I hope is real in a dark world |
| Lingering in your garden here our tired hands are bound | |
| To toiling without pleasure in this murky earth we found | |
| Distance is at fault here and its slowly gaining ground | |
| So stay here at my table till proximity is sound | |
| Keep it in, keep your last breathe, make it worthwhile | |
| I was looking for something, when I was pulling my skin off | |
| So if god is an acronym, some giver of damnation | |
| Then why even bother with the concept of man | |
| Ideals have run wild, escaped from our heads | |
| And with the chosen so few should it warrant attempt? | |
| And what if my fear is all that I am? | |
| A poison to ease what small conscience I have left | |
| But soon we' ll find we lived and died with the world in our hands | |
| You left all your children out | |
| You left all your children fending for our precious lives | |
| I am the fortunate one, left with the blood in my skin | |
| You are the only thing I hope is real in a dark world | |
| I am the fortunate one, left with the blood in my limbs | |
| You are the only thing I hope is real in a dark world |
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