All

these

days

I'll

for-

ev-

er

che-

rish

in

the

con-

fines

of

my

heart

the

fa-

ces

of

ten

years

a-

go

like

fin-

ger-

prints

on

my

heart.

And

how

can

I

breathe

when

fear

chokes

my

ev-

ry-

y

breath?

And

how

can

I

ba-

lance

six

in-

ches

from

death?

Now

the

mo-

men-

tum

we've

cre-

a-

ted

comes

to

a

screech-

ing

halt.

And

this

an-

gel

comes

cras-

hing

down;

on

her

hands

and

knees

she

crawls.

And

how

can

I

breathe

when

fear

chokes

my

ev-

ry-

y

breath?

And

how

ma-

ny

of

your

lies

will

I

be

fed?

The

re-

mains

of

sum-

mer

me-

mor-

ies

spent

so

far

a-

a-

way.

Free

from

the

fear

or

jea-

lou-

sy

that

plagues

our

lives

to-

day.

Now

that

pro-

mi-

ses

were

bro-

ken

e-

ne-

mies

we-

re

made,

we

spend

our

pre-

cious

time

poin-

ting

fin-

gers

try-

ing

to

place

the

blame.

The

re-

mains

of

what's

left

of

our

past,

of

a

fu-

ture

yet

to

come

of

the

bat-

tles

that

we've

lost,

and

the

fights

that

we

have

won.