Holding my own hand, being my own friend Picking up all the pieces again I'm not very good at A lot of things We'd meet at the tunnel, sit in the shade and Listen to cars up there echoing Sometimes I think, Sometimes I think I never left Every year the lake gets lower We find things below the water Counting towns and space between Here the heat gets to everything And it burns my hands, burns my feet I still want something to believe and Every year the lake gets lower We find things below the water I can see the stones, all weathered You're so smart, you don't know better? And I still believe in signs There's a hole in the mountain And a hole in time And I look out to the water Some things never come out right