Tell a story of the creek rising up, rising up Fake a cynical verse in my own way
What's with the shape things turn when they rise from the dark out of the yard? In a way I feel like I'm insane
Oh, yeah old ways got a hold of me Oh, yeah old ways they never seem to break away
Found a strange look in my mirror the other day See these strange words written down every single page
I catch a reflection of my own face Had no idea I walked out of the house today like this Like this
Oh, yeah old ways got a hold of me Oh, yeah old ways they never seem to break away
Getting lost in the old ways No way to explain how the ink stays still, but the pages shrill and decay Think i lost my reality, my eyes still sting I can read them all, but they just stay the same.