The Hand, The Furnace, The Straight Face

Quiet, it's 4 AM

I was sound asleep

Trying to hunt for sheep

There is a choice within a voice

Lurking somewhere between

Hidden parts, facial scars

And remnants of the deepest needs

I am convinced in sleeplessness

That we need some source of rest

Following with frequency

Won't become a place to lay our heads

I've searched and tried

And tumbled in the midst

I've swallowed pride and nullified

What's left of innocence

Reparations won't be made

We'll set a precedent

Never too late to recreate

So here's your evidence

Am I getting through

Is this loud enough

Any means by all extremes

This feeling follows action

You can take my worst mistakes

And use them for excuses

You can try to realize

This vessel by itself is worthless

I've searched and tried

And tumbled in the midst

I've swallowed pride and nullified

What's left of innocence

Reparations won't be made

We'll set a precedent

Never too late to recreate

So here's your evidence

The hand, the furnace, the straight face

The hand, the furnace, the straight face

I've searched and tried

And tumbled in the midst

I've searched and tried

I've searched

I've searched and tried

And tumbled in the midst

I've swallowed pride and nullified

What's left of innocence

Reparations won't be made

We'll set a precedent

Never too late to recreate

So here's your evidence

I've searched and tried

And tumbled in the midst

I've searched and tried

And searched