Atlas

Staring at the roads I’ve passed,
just thin blue lines upon a map,
I’ve seen them press against my skin,
and touch the outside from within.
No feeling in the space between
two entities since now it seems
that each retrace would be in vain,
erase and it won’t look the same.
Won’t look the same…

Chorus:
Held down by the world that I hold up,
travel and you’ll never leave my touch.
Some days I feel I should let it fall,
and drop the past for once and all.

What good are eyes if I still see
the images of you and me
on streets that travel up my spine
and end at last upon my mind?
No stalling in this place unless
my shoulders find a way to rest
from nervousness and past regret
this present tense cannot forget.
Cannot forget…

Chorus:
Held down by the world that I hold up,
travel and you’ll never leave my touch.
Some days I feel I should let it fall,
and drop the past for once and all.

Turning from the thoughts at hand,
silhouettes that stretch across the land,
I can’t see where we haven’t been,
it’s just past where the pages bend,
the dusty prints still have not set,
and underneath the ink is wet,
at any rate I can’t pretend
this story goes without an end.
Without an end…

Chorus:
Held down by the world that I hold up,
travel and you’ll never leave my touch.
Some days I feel I should let it fall,
and drop the past for once and all.

Outtro:
I carry with me all your facts,
your colored legends and your maps,
your silly tables and your laugh,
your parting glance and all of that,
and I no longer can relax
with all this strain upon my back.