The Pull by Hungry Lights Lyrics
I believed that time could heal all damaged persons
But I've called the lie, for souls know only growth
I kept track of days, and years went by remotely
Wanting more in life than being alive...
O' I'm hopeless!
Up in the sky, the clouds have spoken
The truth of the lies has been revealed
No shots were called
So I'm boiling over—awkward in such a perfect low
I'm going nowhere, yet moving forward
And all around me can feel the pull
Maybe I needed time to sort my emotions
To factor in who found the stick that's in my spokes
I guess I'm all to blame, and I can't see a foot in front of my face
When I hit the ground, it's no surprise I break
Down in the earth, the roots are moving
The truth of the lies steps on their heels
No shots were called
So I'm boiling over—awkward in such a perfect low
I'm going nowhere, yet, moving forward
And all around me can feel the pull
And to compete with such grace is always a losing race
They've all gone when I reach that finish line
And I cross it alone, but I cross it nonetheless
O' I do not want your praise, just your ears!
For I'm sitting on a pot of gold, and I've never been fond of spending
No shots were called
So I'm boiling over—awkward in such a perfect low
I'm going nowhere, yet, moving forward
And all around me can feel the pull
But I've called the lie, for souls know only growth
I kept track of days, and years went by remotely
Wanting more in life than being alive...
O' I'm hopeless!
Up in the sky, the clouds have spoken
The truth of the lies has been revealed
No shots were called
So I'm boiling over—awkward in such a perfect low
I'm going nowhere, yet moving forward
And all around me can feel the pull
Maybe I needed time to sort my emotions
To factor in who found the stick that's in my spokes
I guess I'm all to blame, and I can't see a foot in front of my face
When I hit the ground, it's no surprise I break
Down in the earth, the roots are moving
The truth of the lies steps on their heels
No shots were called
So I'm boiling over—awkward in such a perfect low
I'm going nowhere, yet, moving forward
And all around me can feel the pull
And to compete with such grace is always a losing race
They've all gone when I reach that finish line
And I cross it alone, but I cross it nonetheless
O' I do not want your praise, just your ears!
For I'm sitting on a pot of gold, and I've never been fond of spending
No shots were called
So I'm boiling over—awkward in such a perfect low
I'm going nowhere, yet, moving forward
And all around me can feel the pull