Dashboard Confessional - Hell On The Throat

A line of strands to mark the trail
No one said it would be easy
I must admit
I thought that risk was better waged in younger seasons

And all these years in the cold play hell on the throat
Until everything I say burns like cinders
But it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
In the crease of a strangling winter

It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to be lone on the strings of a twisting line
Along the way the turns are sharp
No one said they would be easy
I must admit
I thought the trip was better made in younger seasons
But all these years in pursuit made a man of a fool
Till every word I say is on waver Well it's hard to belong
To a girl or a song
In the case of a selfish believer
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong on the strings in a twisting line

Well it's hard to belong
To a girl or a song
In the case of a selfish believer
It's strange to be lost
Stranger still to belong on the strings in a twisting line

And when the path I have made
From the grass to the grave
I will love you still
And when the sand turns to glass
And all that's left is the past
I will love you still