Can't return me back to where I came from,
An antique and there's nothing like me...

Proud of the scars that you cut in me,
But now I have to live with them...

Take a look across the road,
And where I come from...

It's special,
Just me and the world at my feet...

I want to let go of you,
And forget the pain that I have cried...

Why did I let you hurt yourself?
But in the process causing me grief...

Holding on to you,
Hoping that you'll pull through...

I don't know how much more I can take,
I've been through enough...

When it rains,
The earth sheds yet another tear...

For what seems like a hundred years,
Waiting to say my fortune, my words...

Blistered and over grown with cobs of corn, my
Precious feet struggle to make another stretch...

Slowly dying in puddles of pain,
With an ever beating rash of rain falling...