a line of strands to mark the trail no one said it would be easy i must admit i thought the risk was better waged in younger seasons and all these years in the cold play hell on the throat till everything i say burns like cinders well it s hard to belong to a girl or a song in the crease of a strangling winter it s strange to be lost stranger still to belong on the strings of a twisting line along the way the turns are sharp no one said it would be easy i must admit i thought the trip was better made in younger seasons but all these years in pursuit made a man of a fool til every word i say is unwavered well it s hard to belong to a girl or a song in the case of a selfish believer it s strange to be lost stranger still to belong on the strings of a twisting line well it s hard to belong to a girl or a song in the case of a selfish believer it s strange to be lost stranger still to belong on the strings of a twisting line and when the path i have made from the grass to the grave i will love you still and when the sand turns to glass and all that s left is the past i will love you still
['emo', 'neo mellow', 'pop punk', 'pop rock']