I've Sent A Failure, The Failure Is Me

Trained our eyes to the stage, as we watch you shake uncontrollably.

Feast your eyes, ready your aim, the mouth is shut.

We cannot go on like this anymore and wait for the ready hand to strike fourth.

So break the news to me, have we made it out alive?

Long be the road, to the drifters who worship idol hands.
Do we stand for a purpose or are we lost at sea instead?

I'd rather be lost at sea than to listen to those sirens sung for me.

A true sinner, sins silently.

Come home and fly that smile.

We can get lost, we can get lost at least for awhile.
...

Don't stop running,
with open arms,
with salvation,
with the numbness of the wind
and the freedom to enjoy it,
and the love of grace in our hearts.
We drift on.