LYRIC

The damage I’ve wrought,
the death that I’ve bought,
the pain I support,
all makes a sordid
mirth of my good intentions.

For every “yes”
a thousand “no’s”
and for every dam
that I tried to built
there is a promise of flooding
and a memory of the ocean.

Once I thought it for the best
to never, ever give up and I still
think it for the best to never, ever give up.

Hopelessly so,
for every good reason
just sounds like a bad excuse.

Oh, I’ve grown weary of saying no,
but my friends it’s all I’ve had.
Only nails in flesh, nails in wood,
a crown made of barbed wire.

Still at he end of the day
all that remains is bitter shame
of having survived by compromise as others die.
Bitter shame.

Once I thought it for the best
to never, ever give up and I still
think it for the best
to never, ever give up.

I hope I die before the day
when I have to give up, give up, give. give up.

If you choose the burden,
is it still a burden,
even if it takes your life?

The fool and the martyr
are bred of the same soil.
who can tell us apart?

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