Hell On The Throat

A line of strands to mark the trail,
No one said it would be easy.I must admit I'd thought the risk was better waged in younger seasons, all these years in the cold play hell on the throat
Until everything I say burns like cinders,
Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song
And the crease of a strangling winterIt's strange to be lost, stranger still to belong
On the strings of a twisting lie.
Along the way the turns are sharp,
No one said they would be easy,
I must admit I thought the trip was better made in younger seasons.
But all these years in the pursuit made a man of a fool,
Till every word I say is unwavered.Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a psalm
In the case of a selfish believer,
It's strange to be lost, stranger still to belong
On the strings in a twisting line [x2]