Cold fingers are to blame for the lag, but it works.
lyrics
Walking the edge of an incredible lake,
The hidden depths hold big mistakes,
The mind is a mess and the flesh can relate,
What comes as a gift is taken away,
Call it the condition of man with a thorn in his side,
Call it the cost of muse, I’ve got nothing to write if I’ve got nothing to hide,
So here is the end of an impossible test,
The bleeding stops when the heart is at rest,
And into the ground with what was kept so close,
And then from there only God knows,
How could you know death if you can’t accept it,
Maybe an accident, or maybe just a trial of mine,
I’ve got nothing to write if I’ve got nothing to hide,
When the fog lifts and my eyes are open wide,
I can see the end with the beginning still in sight,
Like blind mice, my brothers are in denial,
And their sad tramps, my sisters have no smile,
Because they wait and they wait,
They count up the days to no avail,
I give and I get,
Forgiveness forgets,
Where it came from,
Origination,
Call it the condition of man with a thorn in his side,
Maybe just a trial of mine,
I’ve got nothing to write if I’ve got nothing to hide.
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