On The Fifty
things get wet in the ocean
You gave it all I gave nothing
These waves couldnât stop me
From sailing far away
I tried to reach for horizons
Left where I laid my eyes in
Only acting in this play
But itâs getting old
And this isnât the right place
Iâm still not sold on saving you
This tide will rip us apart
But I knew along
You wonât be the wind that blows me
We sail for our own good
Now letâs pick up where we left off
How my steps had you lost
Finding your own way
Reach for a sense of direction
Only building up tension
In this dark cell where I lay
The storm will take you
Far away
No holes in these sails
My fingertips wouldnât leave the prints to lead you back to me