Threads

March: cold and damp; the rain soaks to my bones
I’m walking uphill past Victorian homes
My insides hollowed out
From whiskey chasing doubt
But I’ll keep hanging on by a thread
And I’ll finish the song 'fore I’m dead
One April morn marks the day of my birth
Well I’m just twenty-four and I’m weighing my worth
But I’ll soon be twenty-five
Just bury me alive
But I’ll keep hanging on by a thread
And I’ll finish the song 'fore I’m dead
May mormon bride, waking up with the sun
It’s all I can do to put down your gun
Well I wouldn’t have the nerve
A coward’s learning curve
But I’ll keep hanging on by a thread
And I’ll finish the song 'fore I’m dead
But I’ll keep hanging on by a thread
And I’ll finish the song 'fore I’m dead