Better To Burn - 36 Crazyfists

I tried to cover what mattered most, endless dose from my own ghost

Holy wind blowing right on in…

Things I should’ve been

Coldness of night

Inside winter’s sleep

Disturbing what’s right

Better to burn, better to leave it all in the dirt

Wounds that mend, throwing caution to the wind…

To the wind of the settled signs, on the end of the losing kind

In that voice it bleeds again, shadow’s luck to remind my wins

Fill my lungs with summer’s rain

Designs of my escape through the endless drain

Where I’d rather lose myself to the ocean’s waves

And swallow the tears of the sun

Death’s one last claim…