Lots

Head south headstrong Wake each grey dawn Hold on weakness No prints princess Mother my nest Once choice to make Get ready to go Feel like we've been here before Without a choice and insecure Of where we'd be without this net around Yet we've always hated it Now we stand a chance to break the chains And break lance that cuts into the heart And burns the essence of our dreams desire No hope in sight Held on too tight Skylines burnt down No crops dust cloud Blind dogs run deep Pale surf, cold feet Once choice to make Get ready to go Cold throne, no sire Black earth past fire Flushed out regret No past, no sense Brave days ahead None rest, none yet Once choice to make Get ready to go