My fists have been grasping real tight
On ribbons that hang onto tangled up kites
For the notes that will fill
Up the saccharine still
Of the air here tonight
But it feels like there's little to show
For time that you've spent on things that no one can know
How the lines in your hands
Read like maps in the sand
With nowhere specific to go
If you let it
It all goes away
It's the strangest feeling at parts
When things are okay right when the rain starts
Like the dripping of stars
On the roof of my car
In the minutes just after dark
But sometimes I think I'm losing sight
Of whatever it was that made everything right
But I lack violins
To make sorrows of sins
So I guess that it must be alright