This road is killing me, just like that needle in your arm
I just can't get enough, so I'm ignoring the alarm
Stuck in a wooden box, should be asleep without a sound
There is no daylight here, feels like I'm 6 feet underground
My legs are broken, my arms are broken
My lungs aren't breathing, my head is bashed in
My legs are broken, my arms are broken
My heart is broken
Now I know there's nothing left in this world I'd rather do
Like if the earth was flat, beyond the edge I would find you
My mind is breaking up like a ship upon the rocks
There's no wind in my sails, I see you waiving from the docks
Like sand down in your shoes, then kicked back in your face
This place can leave you lost and alone
A face familiar, yet so unknown
Will it matter in a hundred years? what will matter in a hundred years?
Writer(s): Michael Arthur Herrera
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