Text: Ten Foot Pole. Bad Mother Trucker. Riptide.

I could?ve lied the truth, a needle in your eye
The wound a Band-Aid won't heal
But I persist and try to tell it like it is
What's the point if we're not real?

Riptide sweeps me out to drown
Flailing arms and aching chest the more
I struggle the more it wears me down
How long can I hold my breath?

Another test you used to say I was the best
So proud to walk by my side
Now you see all the wrong with me
Can you accept it, will you try?

Riptide sweeps me out to drown
Flailing arms and aching chest the more
I struggle the more it wears me down
How long can I hold my breath?

Rolling, choking still I'm kicking
Drifting farther out to sea
I won't let go of my dim hopes
Somehow you'll make it out to me

Rolling, choking still I'm kicking
Drifting farther out to sea
I won't let go of my dim hopes
Somehow you'll make it out to me