Can we go back to when we knew what true north was
Had a direction, knew where we would end up
I don't know who I am
I don't know if my feet will ever land
Take me back to that Sunday in September
Take a deep breath, let cold air collapse our lungs
I guess I'm just feeling nostalgic... and ready
To take a chance, make mistakes, burn some bridges again
Take a swing for the fences if the right pitch lines up
But I've been swinging at curve balls
I've been waiting for too long to see you again
Done with these old faded pictures of long lost friends
I could have been better at speaking up in the end
Somebody find me a map that shows where true north is
"Born there, you die there" that's the way that it seems
Run away, no direction. Just to wash your past clean
But what the f*ck does that mean?
Lose yourself, lose your passion, lose your sense in a storm
Find a path, a beginning, a trail to the north
But I don't know where it leads anymore...
I don't know how to read the moss on the trees or the smell of the breeze
Don't know what any of this means. Am I the disease that set the winter upon me?
I don't know how to read the moss on the trees or the scent on the breeze
Don't know what any of this means. Am I the disease that set the winter upon me?