It’s harder now, you know, to insistnWhen you’re hungry for a simple sentimentnnWith my arms tied up it’s hard to make things fitnBut you never realized itnnOn your mark I could shed these set constraintsnAnd open up my handnBecause we could find lovenBecause somewhere in this pane we are still the samenI just have a headachennI’m walking open-ended to the sourcenIn hopes to find a change of uniformnnYou think your scathing way can’t so easily breaknBut you don’t make mistakesnnOn your mark I could shed these set constraintsnAnd open up my handnBecause we could find lovenBecause somewhere in this pane we are still the samenI just have a headache