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This is a call to arms for the poets that are inside of us. |
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This is shedding our skin, and breaking the chains that are binding us. |
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This is pictures of the truth. |
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This is life in real time. |
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All the words we always wanted but could never make them rhyme. |
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This is the way that she looked. |
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This is what I believe. |
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This is the way it's been and always will be. |
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This is the war raging inside of me when I told you all that I was fine. |
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You taught me never underestimate the power of ten thousand hearts that are beating in time. |
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This is for everyone still holding on to all the things they fucked up and all the people they did wrong, all the songs they never sang. |
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Our story's still the same, but we've been holding it in so long. |
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So Hallelujah amen, holy whatever, bless your soul. |
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Because these are the words that set up the verses that let us free ourselves through rock n' roll. |
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This is music, this is spirit, this is passion if you'll let yourself hear it. Cause there's mercy in the verse, |
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a story in the chorus, |
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a bridge to get over the sea of doubt before us. |
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It's all not perfect. We need music to save us; spinning the soundtrack to our beautiful chaos. |
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Imperfect existence: just grab it and own it and I swear to God you'll have it all in that moment. |
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So take every picture of your perfect life... |
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You can splatter it with color and the paint will dry... You can throw it in the air and you can watch it fly... Just for one last time squeeze it very, very tight... And let it go. |