Wasted Words

There are days when sorrow seems never-ending
Like the countless roads upon which I’ve driven
The price of attachment in pursuit of dreams
That I so often can’t seem to remember
Yet there are days when beauty cannot be contained
It even crawls out from under ordinary things

A foreigner, no place to go
Holding on, making the most
Of what little time I have

All the wasted words I said
In all the cities that I left
The last act of our precious play
Must not close with regret

I will not leave whishing I had done things differently

The moments I treasure are seldom the ones
That I planned for
And if I knew where pain hid I might still let it go
So when the audience has run toward the latest drift
It will be my time to face the life that I have set

A foreigner in my own home
Holding on, no place to go

All the wasted words I said
In all the cities that I left
The last act of our precious play
Must not close with regret (regret)
All the wasted words

Some days the line between peace
And pain seems more like a blur
But I know with certainty
I can’t leave wishing, I cannot leave
I can’t leave wishing I’d done things differently

All the wasted words I said
In all the cities that I left
The last act of our precious play
Must not close with regret (regret)
All the wasted words