Hands in line Arms close to my side I'm fighting tides of an ocean's undertow And I figure I might not make it And I'm taking empty But seldom keeping And the words retreat breathing histories into stories untold And I unfold. My hands are high And I'm holding out holding up Because I figure that I just might make it And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold And I unfold. Quality is what you see now in the corner of your eye. Don't be surprised if you hear the bells ring They form from the sky and they sound bong bong bong And I'm holding up because I figure that I just make it. And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold And I unfold.