So I'm trying to make    things count. But alone   i can't forfill a dream   held by the four of us.   So I've been carrying    all our load. Your free    hands are pissing me    of for the last time.    And you say wanna    get it through. To    everyone who's got the   power to speak of you.   But all i hear from you   is talk. Talk of some   place where good things    happen to well played    songs. But that's not here.    Being who we are, where    we are. A small circle of   friends, who completely    understand. And if we hold   out long enough, commit   to what we love. We    might pack our bags some   day, yeah. But that's not here.