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The old plaster walls are like a second skin That wraps right around you even when they're all closing in A creature of comfort just coming to terms with a tight tourniquet There was a time when there was no confining our protagonist As the days drone on and the fire within Is slowly replaced by your responsibility in Making it up as you go along None of us really know shit Second opinions can still just be waters not worth wading in It doesn't need to be some big secret From under a dying sun Caught in the middle of escaping escapism It turns out admitting dеfeat takes too much enеrgy Is the humming gone? Or can you still hear it too? When the road has run out will you have somewhere you can run to? Has the excitement all come and gone? Is that moment worth holding through? Can your pen still make light of all the paper you're holding onto? From under a dying sun Caught in the middle of escaping escapism Once youthful and fully free It turns out admitting defeat takes too much energy Be the stone that just keeps grinding away Once you're just dust in the ditch Then your soul's finally saved From Letras Mania