Hands in line
Arms close to my side
I´m fighting tides of an ocean´s undertow
And I figure I might not make it
And I´m taking empty
But seldom keeping
And the words retreat breathing histories into stories untold
And I unfold.

My hands are high
And I´m holding out, holding up
Because I figure that I just might make it
And I´m waking empty but seldom sleeping
And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold
And I unfold.

Quality is what you see now in the corner of your eye.
Don´t be surprised if you hear the bells ring
They form from the sky and they sound bong, bong, bong
And I´m holding up because I figure that I just make it.

And I´m waking empty but seldom sleeping
And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold
And I unfold