Well the steel in his strings Cuts into his fingers And the lines that are left He knows so well And the words that he screams Sift through the smoke and sweat While his wandering mind Tries to tell... To tell him he's uninspired In some weary, absent way To tell him he's simply tired... Then the sound rolls in And lifts him up and in to the place he should've been Then the sound rolls in, and lifts him up and in And when all has been drained He wrestles with the feeling Of an unfelt refrain that he knew too well And the words that he hears Because they compliment Are the words that he fears Because they tell... They tell him he's uninspired In some weary absent way They tell him he's simply hired here Then the sound rolls in And lifts him up and in to the place he should've been Then the sound rolls in...