Texty: Sleeping (The). The Big Deep. Dark Days.

In a state of mind half-a-world away, split apart from day to day.
The thought of switching grooves, a sudden swing of moods,
Then somehow everything changed.

Drastic differences in song, severed tunes now sung
A full-circled hymn, a body rebuilding it's tired right from wrong.
It's always wrong.

Life, I was sick of a verse, it couldn't get much worse.
I was caving in.
Then my words dropped out of the sky, out of the odd summer night.
I am the song.

Now my darkest days are half a world away, worlds away.
There were no choruses allowed.
There was dust spewed from the mouth.
The scent of growing old, a rushing surge of cold,
A never-ending cloud.

There were beautiful bridges burning thin.
All of the melodies sinking in, the thought of switching skin.
The need to make it out, I gotta make it out
But it's always wrong.

Life, I was sick of a verse, it couldn't get much worse.
I was caving in.
Then my words dropped out of the sky, out of the odd summer night.
I am the song.
Now my darkest days are...

Half a world away, worlds away.