There are days when sorrow seems never ending
Like the countless roads upon which I've driven
The price of attachment in pursuit of dreams
That I so often can't seem to remember
Yet there are days when beauty cannot be contained
It even crawls out from under ordinary things
A foreigner
No place to go
Holding on
Making the most
Of what little time I have
All the wasted words I said
In all the cities that I left
The last act of our precious play
Must not close with regret
I will not leave wishing I had done things differently
The moments I treasure are seldom the ones
That I planned for
And if I knew where pain hid
I might still let it go
So when the audience has run toward the latest drift
It will be my time to face the life that I have set
A foreigner in my own home
Holding on
No place to go
All the wasted words I said
In all the cities that I left
The last act of our precious play
Must not close with regret regret
All the wasted words
Some days the line between peace and pain
Seems more like a blur
But I know with certainty
I can't leave wishing
I cannot leave
I can't leave wishing
I'd done things differently
All the wasted words I said
In all the cities that I left
The last act of our precious play
Must not close with regret regret
All the wasted
Wasted words