D Bm A D
Chasing the lie, tracing our scars, moaning for help, to be held.
G Bm E7
And every day we feel further away from ourselves.
D Bm A C#m
The concrete is wet I feel too comfortable.
D Bm A
My responses are limited to reactions.
G Bm A
And everything dies its little deaths everyday.
D Bm A C#m
So with my head up my ass and my foot on the gas.
D Bm A
I set out to write a synonym for loss.
D Bm A C#m
Hands caught in the door and my face on the floor,
G D
I'll write one for you.