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,
But 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
And the crease of a strangling winter

It's strange to be lost, stranger still to be lone
On the strings of a twisting line
Along the way the turns are sharp,
No one said they would be easy,
I must admit I thought the trip
was better in younger seasons
But all these years in the pursuit
made a man of a fool,
Till every word I say is on waver

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 and stranger still to be lone
On the strings in 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 and stranger still to be lone
On the strings in 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
And I will love you still