Well I left home with no expectations and a single hope that I knew would hover over the trip ahead of me. But it's been a week since I found out that all it takes is a second to doubt. Driving through Iowa, with a hat on my head and holes in my jeans, I tried to hide all the wounds and pains trying to escape my skin, longing to reach out to passersby. But the box that held our bandaids is all empty now, and even worse, my stomach's coming up on me considering the toll this may hold. Sleepless nights, a familiar noise, the crickets sound exhausted. Maybe it's just me again, losing all my steam within, but the mighty storm has passed on for now. And the moon is here for me tonight, floating loyally my crescent kite, so blow the candles out and fall asleep. Wake up angry and then repeat. Climbing vines laced with thorns, all in a hell I've watched the walls give. So act surprised like the secret was safe, like a deck of cards lacking spades, there's an answer here under these mistakes, hopefully we can find it before another word escapes

Lyrics submitted by PLANES

The Box That Held Our Bandaids song meanings
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