Come winter mornings Sketch some lines where my face should be Heed not fair warnings This jadedness steps from complacency
I find the way I look increasingly concerning My mind plays tricks on itself but I realize that I'm still learning I'm feeble but I'm young it's perfect but I'm growing Descent I'm shifting my shape's not changing
Sixteen cynical stepping stones lead me home Over oceans, valleys, and plains Spoke to ghosts I learned their names We sat by fires, stories spilling out their mouths All the kids we used to know All were doomed to haunt this house
We climb to treetops, waiting for the winter It's hard to admit but these bodies just keep growing thinner