Dashboard Confessional

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 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 the younger seasons