Sometimes I make plans just to hold in my hands To feel like you're real for the moments I can But there's not a lot that I don't understand I know what I've got, and I know where I land There're beginning and ends, but middles can bend And even then, it's a bitch saying what's the difference is Some crack and some mend, some you don't see again But I want what's left of them, I want what's left of them now I don't blindly believe in all that I see But sometimes, I admit that I can let the lighting lead But shadows don't keep more than warmth upon sheets They're born to bleed themselves dry