Hands in line

Arms close to my side

I'm fighting tides of an ocean's undertow

And I figure I might not make it

And I'm taking empty

But seldom keeping

And the words retreat breathing histories into stories untold

And I unfold.



My hands are high

And I'm holding out, holding up

Because I figure that I just might make it

And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping

And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold

And I unfold.



Quality is what you see now in the corner of your eye.

Don't be surprised if you hear the bells ring

They form from the sky and they sound bong, bong, bong

And I'm holding up because I figure that I just make it.



And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping

And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold

And I unfold.
-Jason Mraz