This is...

This is the part where I hold my tongue.

This is the moment where I let the battle go unwon.

This is love but it feels like war.

Don't have the energy to pick my feet up off the floor.

This is the part where we make emends.

This is the moment where we quietly hold hands.

And stare at the icebergs as they filter down from the cold,

under the sun only to melt into the waters off the coast.

This is the part where we wonder if the ocean water's bored,

of constantly crashing on the rocks that won't have her,

still she keeps coming back for more.

This is the moment held with a tight squeeze.

This is the part where I can feel the weakness in your knees.

This is the moment where I realize that time has no reverse.

Precious memories pass me by in a black Cadillac hearse.

Is this just life, or part of the curse?

This is the part that makes life a never-ending story.

In America it's called a truck, and in England a lorey.

This is the moment of break-through in group therapy.

This is the part where life is grand.

This is the moment of the last stand.

Where we walk away and claim there's a difference we can see,

sometimes it's real, sometimes it's make-believe,

still this is the part where it gets to me.

This is the part with the tea party at the bottom of the pool.

This is the moment where you realize her new guy's a tool.

And you laugh yourself to sleep every night,

faux-boxing in the mirror drenched in new morning light,

this is the part where you understand that this won't make it right.

Your only enemy is yourself in this intra-ego fight.

This is the part where you draw a line in the sand.

This is the moment where dare cross the bridge to a new land.

This is the part where you join a band.

Five different people, but they all understand.

You quit the drugs but not the excuses,

this is the part where you realize confession is fucking useless.

This is the moment that does you wrong.

This is the part where you live the verse,

but not the chorus of the song.