Sometimes I make plans just to hold in my hands
To feel like you're real for the moments I can
But there's not a lot that I don't understand
I know what I've got, and I know where I land
There're beginning and ends, but middles can bend
And even then, it's a bitch saying what's the difference is
Some crack and some mend, some you don't see again
But I want what's left of them, I want what's left of them now
I don't blindly believe in all that I see
But sometimes, I admit that I can let the lighting lead
But shadows don't keep more than warmth upon sheets
They're born to bleed themselves dry
