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Britt Kusserow
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Your Year
Won't you come out of the cold?
Won't you give me your worries to hold?
I can't promise you everything you want to hear,
but this will be your year.
Now the days tell you to rush
'cause you've lived for so long, and so much,
but there's peace I can offer you,
quiet, and dear,
this will be your year.
As the world yet spins
you'll be glad for the life you are just wearing in.
Though it seems to be wearing so awfully thin,
have no fear. This will be your year.
Will you love me as much as you can,
though we both have drawn lines in the sand?
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And the things we were told seemed so perfectly clear
but this will be our year.
When the fire takes me away
fueled by fear, or by fortune, or fate
I'll look over my shoulder, though you won't appear
'cause this will be my year.
As the world turns on
we might wonder just where we have gone.
Though it seems someone, somewhere, forgot how to steer
as they're telling you can't see the lines through your tears,
and to throw in the towel seems so cavalier,
don't adhere!
This will be, this will be your year.
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