When I drop I can't stop myself from planting secrets and seeds. I'm still searching for paradise underneath the weeds. If you want fame, find someone else to blame. There's no truth in suffering, just the violence of winds. And when you try to roll the stone, you'll find it gathers more sins. When we come to the crossroads, who's then a man? If there is redemption, a way to hit the mark, should I dance among the graves? Or hide in the dark? The signs all point to nothing...nothing or all.