I worry that I can't stop,
That I'll never stop
Until my bones are dry and brittle
And they tell me that I'm dying
I thought I could do this
I thought I could do this
With strength and wisdom and grace
But I picked a path with thorns that make me bleed
And the maps were gathered and burnt
When I was just a child
When I was just a child
I picked up smooth, hard secrets
And took them home to keep forever
And marveled at the pulse that just kept on beating
Through crystal veins, translucent skin
