Dashboard Confessional

A line of strands to mark the trail,
No one said it would be easy.

I must admit I thought
The risk was better waged in younger seasons,
But all these years in the cold
Play hell on the throat
'Till everything I say burns like cinders,
Why it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
And the crease of a strangling winter

It's strange to be lost,
stranger still to be lone
On the strings of a twisting line.

Along the way the turns are sharp,
No one said they would be easy,
I must admit I thought the trip
Was better made in younger seasons.
But all these years in the pursuit
Made a man of a fool,
'Till every word I say is on waver.

Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
In the case of a selfish believer,
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to be lone
On the strings of a twisting line

Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
In the case of a selfish believer,
It's strange to be lost
stranger still to be lone
on the strings of a twisting line

And when the path
I have made from the grass to the grave,
I will love you still.
And when the sand turns to glass
and all that's left is the past and
I will love you still.