Текст и слова песни Dashboard Confessional – Hell On The Throat
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
But all these years in 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 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
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
But all these years in 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 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
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