Born with my head in a mess, well I am still waiting
for you, or anyone, or anything to give me an explanation
as to why I should recognise this as a world that I should pull my own weight in
when I have tied my skateboard to this car, and my wheels are not shaking, I'm fine.

There will be some rocks on this road

but I am fair at steering just so long as you remain my driving force.
I wish that I could pull you back but I am on my knees and if I try to stand, I will fall.
You are my strength all while I am your weakness, I know you dig deep 'cause I'm buried beneath this.
Don't cry, 'cause I'm fine, as okay as I ever was and we will switch places in time.

I ask myself, who crafted this script and cast us all into the midst of this? Have I the strength to turn a new page, can we not return to the scenes we miss?
This is all live, we must improvise, and realise that after this break of routine, of normality, of hearts: the curtains are going to rise.

It's hard to see the point of this compass when someone who did so right has too soon left, but the shapes of these hands are reminders that there is much of this journey to go on yet
so I do not despair the departure of my most comforting constant. I do not rue this ruin, I do not curse that I was cursed.
I rejoice everything that I recall, I recognise I was in fact blessed.
And I bare these memories as fuel for the fire inside of me that will never rest.

I don't trust their god, the one thing I believe in is we'll go on and on, even a man down we are as one.

Blood, bound, joined, lost, shed, shared.