the hand of mannnbuilt the sedannnthat drove us 'crossnnthis stolen land nnnnsearch us something long awaynnthe lost or sold awaynnand i was the shadennof your checkered pastnnthe child that strayednnthe splintered mastnnso i wont blame you when you leavennjust leave me something to believennand ill be finennnnloaded priestnncollar of greasennhe had a blastnnat the last feastnnand its too bad about the hostnnbut he looked paler than the ghostnnwhen he took his leavennsaid 'no, please don't grievenngot one last tricknnstuck up my sleeve'nnan' we were born to memorizennthat jesus died because we triednnand were to blamennnnyour heart is like a sheet of glassnnthat holds the winter stormnnand i knew that when i fell from gracennyour love would keep me warmnnthat gold coast just calls to mennfrom hills beyondnnsay 'boy its time you come to me,nnwon't be back for long'nnnn'cuz no one remainsnnmother complainsnnvery concernednnvaricose veinsnni watched them spread just like diseasennfrom her ankles to her kneesnnlike vines around a treenntwitch and tremble in the breezenntwitch and tremble in the breeze