Texty: Last Tuesday. Armchair Sanctuary.

Throw my hands up I'm backing out
Throw down my guns, I'm gicing up the fight to prove them right
Gotta get away from myself, if I'm gonna make it out alive
Standing on the sidelines spitting my 2 cents
celebrating arrogance while hiding in a drowd of cynics
passive passion proves my life is passing me by
I'll never make it out alive
This meaning is fleeting, just when we really need it
A building and nothing more, these empty walls are bound to fall
Throw my hands up, I've had enough
I've been the first, I've seen the top of feeling down and out
I gotta get away from myself, and I'll never make it out alive

I'll be there if you feel like you're falling
I know we're going all the way, I know we're searching for the answers
And it's not enough when you're losing heart
Instead of backing out just put in your part
Searching for where we are going