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The Braids
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Ebben
See how they go
See the way they rise up
All of my dreams
Up in front of me
Oh I
I could grab them
Shoot them down and stab them
But I murdered them all
All before they fall
It's a gentle pluck
A pluck not birthed from luck
A slow and steady growth
Filled with ebb and flow
Maybe I'm not the star
Whose light blinds those who saw
The creature from a distance
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Impaired and now they've missed it
Rise up
Up in front of me
Stab them
All before they fall
From luck
Filled with ebb and flow
Who saw
See they way they rise above
Away
Save them you want to
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