Hell on the Throat

A line of strands to mark the trail,

No one said it would be easy.

I must admit I thought the risk was better waged in

younger seasons,

But all these years in the cold play hell on the throat

Till everything I say burns like cinders,

Why it's hard to belong to a girl or a song

And the crease of a strangling winter

It's strange to be lost, stranger still to be lone

In the strings of a twisting line.

Along the way the turns are sharp,

No one said they would be easy,

I must admit I thought the trip was better in younger

seasons.

But all these years in the pursuit made a man of a

fool,

Till every word I say is on waver.

Why it's hard to belong to a girl or a song

In the case of a selfish believer,

It's strange to be lost and stranger still to be lone

In the strings in a twisting line (2x)

And when the path I have made

From the grass to the grave,

I will love you still.

And when the sand turns to glass

And all that's left is the past

And I will love you still.