A line of strands to mark the trail,
No one said it would be easy.
I must admit I thought the risk
Was better waged in younger seasons.
But all these years in the cold, play hell on the throat
'Til everything I say burns like cinders,
A line of strands to mark the trail,
No one said it would be easy.
I must admit I thought the risk
Was better waged in younger seasons.
But all these years in the cold, play hell on the throat
'Til everything I say burns like cinders,
Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
And the crease of a strangling winter
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
And 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...
Along the way the turns are sharp,
No one said they would be easy,
I must admit I thought the trip was better in younger seasons.
But all these years in pursuit
made a man of a fool,
'Til every word I say is unwaivered
Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
And the crease of a strangling winter
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
And I will love you still.
If I got the lyrics wrong anywhere, tell me. I Think I got the "lone in the strings" wrong.
A line of strands to mark the trail, No one said it would be easy. I must admit I thought the risk Was better waged in younger seasons. But all these years in the cold, play hell on the throat 'Til everything I say burns like cinders,
A line of strands to mark the trail, No one said it would be easy. I must admit I thought the risk Was better waged in younger seasons. But all these years in the cold, play hell on the throat 'Til everything I say burns like cinders,
Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song And the crease of a strangling winter 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 And 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...
Along the way the turns are sharp, No one said they would be easy, I must admit I thought the trip was better in younger seasons. But all these years in pursuit made a man of a fool, 'Til every word I say is unwaivered
Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song And the crease of a strangling winter 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 And I will love you still.