Text: Rocky Votolato. Makers. Wait Out The Days.

When the memory is a blank page
and the teeth in your mouth are all cliches
you heart is a bag of rocks
your soul is a pile of ashes on the sidewalk
there's an eagle scout project
I used to come to to feel some kind of magic now a story less - we'll wait out the days wait out the days
till death comes to claim
anything that life didn't already take
you can wait out the days the catch 22s are all catching up with you
they're laying all over the middle ground
you were walking on to avoid em and it's too late to turn around
on the corner of Morisson there's a shop that sells bracelets and little glass ornaments looking in you can feel the magic and wait out the days