Lyrics
With just one wink, I’ll blow it all away
Even an emergency? That’s nothing, child’s play
One breath in, one breath out, and all my fear was gone somewhere
This self of mine that can’t be lent or borrowed,
I’ve got no choice but to keep living with it.
So I might as well make my peace with that,
Quit all the talk, and on the road to the other side,
just enjoy the trip,
Close one eye, close one eye.
The future already turned its back on me long ago,
but I bet matches would still sell better than you’d think.
I’ll strike one, make a show of it, and scatter nothing but illusion.
This soul of mine that can’t be taken out or put away,
I’ve got no choice but to carry it along.
So I might as well hold it high,
bare and exposed, awkward if it has to be.
Even these wounds that never heal,
I’ll choose to show them.
This self of mine that can’t be lent or borrowed,
I’ve got no choice but to keep living with it.
So I might as well make my peace with that,
Quit all the talk, and on the road to the other side,
why don’t I just skip along it?
As if to drown it all out, this self of mine,
I thrust it forward—this hollow shell of me—
and call even that beautiful.
Patched together is fine; even from the seams,
at last, it spills out.
Close one eye, close one eye.
Even an emergency? That’s nothing, child’s play
One breath in, one breath out, and all my fear was gone somewhere
This self of mine that can’t be lent or borrowed,
I’ve got no choice but to keep living with it.
So I might as well make my peace with that,
Quit all the talk, and on the road to the other side,
just enjoy the trip,
Close one eye, close one eye.
The future already turned its back on me long ago,
but I bet matches would still sell better than you’d think.
I’ll strike one, make a show of it, and scatter nothing but illusion.
This soul of mine that can’t be taken out or put away,
I’ve got no choice but to carry it along.
So I might as well hold it high,
bare and exposed, awkward if it has to be.
Even these wounds that never heal,
I’ll choose to show them.
This self of mine that can’t be lent or borrowed,
I’ve got no choice but to keep living with it.
So I might as well make my peace with that,
Quit all the talk, and on the road to the other side,
why don’t I just skip along it?
As if to drown it all out, this self of mine,
I thrust it forward—this hollow shell of me—
and call even that beautiful.
Patched together is fine; even from the seams,
at last, it spills out.
Close one eye, close one eye.