In a world of tired hearts,
the finish line has the look of the start.
But as for you in your waiting room,
your neighbor dies. They die as you "need to grow."
So who will go?
Who will give their time?
So who will know they're loved?
In a world that's only speaking,
(the sound of heavy rain)
to be a light, I'll try to start listening.
(to see the sun again)
But as for you, are you comfortable?
Is anything about your "living"
comforting to those who want to live.
Fight for restoring your right to be on dry ground.
Do you use the only rope to hoist yourself up as they drown.
What better way for them to find true life but by a sacrifice from you.
So make more room. Make room for someone else.
Make room for someone else. Make room for someone else.
Someone else.
