the tears i've cried have emptiness written all over them.

they fall real slow like leaves blowin' in the wind.

Who's to say that the best is yet to come?

when my best is far below the bar.

im not even sure if i want this anymore,

but in that moment, you fall back on what you know.

the quiet is firmiliar, a home, my home;

i go back there, after each day is done.