On the road to safe, I kind of tripped along the way.
It just seemed like a nasty hassle;
the path was greener on the one less traveled,
so that's where I remained.
People so high, they think I can't hear the whispers.
But I can see it falling off their face;
they're trying to shoot down my plane of grace.
It seems like it's already hard enough...
But the paint on me
is beginning to dry and it's not what I wanted to be.
The weight on me
is hanging on to a weary Angel.
Tell me what it is about me;
where did everybody go without me?
So I like to fantasize
and watch the sunrise,
like it's a big surprise!
Life moved and I stopped to taste it;
I drank it up 'till it left me wasted.
Now my rains have bled
a softer red
oh you should see
the world inside my head.