All of my days, they are coming to an end - I am counting down the seconds
And I can no longer pretend that I am completely content with where I'm at
If I met you, I would burn my magazines, erase all my history, and say I'm sorry
And like a tree, I'd burn my leaves, and bare myself for all to see, and you'd call it beauty
I am hoping that you're running down the road to me without your shoes on
I am binding every part that is left of me to a tiny mustard seed, and it is growing
So if my hands should start to bleed, it means loves flowing out of me: lets start rejoicing!
I am roaming, and you are calling me back home. I have never felt that call so strong before
And though my feet walk very slow, and there is d**h between my bones, I'll make it home!
‘cause there are days, sometimes even weeks when I can say I don't believe
But the days are getting longer in between
Maybe it would help me if we'd meet