Lots

Head south headstrong

Wake each gray dawn

Hold on weakness

No prints princess

Mother my nest

Once choice to make

Get ready to go

Feel like we've been here before

Without a choice and insecure

Of where we'd be without this net around

Yet we've always hated it

Now we stand a chance to break the chains

And break lance that cuts into the heart

And burns the essence of our dreams desire

No hope in sight

Held on too tight

Skylines burnt down

No crops dust cloud

Blind dogs run deep

Pale surf, cold feet

Once choice to make

Get ready to go

Cold throne, no sire

Black earth past fire

Flushed out regret

No past, no sense

Brave days ahead

None rest, none yet

Once choice to make

Get ready to go