As cold as my feet get, the brain starts to ache:
There's nothing unconnected in my soul,
and what runs through my veins can easily reflect my status.

But I can't do so many other things.
I can't turn water into wine, and there's just a few things I can write.
Tools that I'm still missing, and powers that silently emerge from my fingers...
... you might rather loosing me instead.

Not enough is the rule, and for deep waters my anxiety grows
gazing through the clearness of your wishes,
because my dear
we can all read our lies as long as we persue honesty.

I can always stay in the same mode
Splashing memories on a screen, like if white was my true companion.
My legs sinked in this water, by choice
and now there's dirt that I must clean.

I can't and I won't
But I still wish I could
For a situation that no one dares to risk, one that contains me
For squares to mold and turn into perfect circles,
because my comfort lays on what I can't adjust,
your version of us.

Lyrics by Metric