Hell on the Throat [Acoustic]

A line of strands to mark the trail
No one said it would be easy
I must admit
I thought that risk was better waged in younger seasons
But all these years in the cold, play hell on my throat
'Til everything I say burns like cinders
Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
In the crease of a strangling winter
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong 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
'Til 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 belong 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 belong 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
I will love you still