Letra :
Taken to the brink of something.
Something, but we canÂ’t know what.
To wait, to want, itÂ’s so bad, and,
try something, and,
moving to slow,
to get where you want to go.
Looking for results,
you canÂ’t begin, to,
find a way out from the cold,
place youÂ’re in.
But it suits you,
your condition.
Symptoms that keep you in,
keep you from motion.
Until itÂ’s cold,
slowing you down,
until you canÂ’t go.
Taken by something,
but you canÂ’t hold on to it,
you canÂ’t.
It slips through your fingers,
slips through your hand.
Because theyÂ’re too cold,
canÂ’t get a grip,
on whatÂ’s in your sight.
ItÂ’s like getting old.
ItÂ’s like getting told, to, sit, still.
But it suits you,
your condition.
Symptoms that keep you in,
keep you from motion.
Until itÂ’s cold,
slowing you down,
until you canÂ’t go.
ItÂ’s not me.
Is there something,
so wrong.
Process of depraving yourself,
of peace of mind.
