Running out of patience Broken things not meant to be fixed Running out of time Not soon enough Carrying memories We used to share And sometimes there's still The smell of spring in the air All your bones made of stone But yet there all broken Winters' end sun comes up Rust on your legs Fading to dust Fading to dust Fading to dust There's this part of me You're not used to see There's more in the dark There's this part of me You're not used to see The whole thing is more than the sum of its parts