Lyrics

...and preserve it into these words: Ink on my fingers, facing blank pages Years of singing of desperation I find myself now somewhat content At the price of feeling somewhat uninspired Trying to savor the precious present tense And preserve it into these words: We are who we are We have done what we have done Nothing can change the places we've been The notes we've left, or the things we've said Ink on our fingers Ink-covered pages Trying to savor the precious present tense And preserve it into these words