A line of strands to mark the trail No one said it would be easy I must admit I felt the risk Was better waged in younger seasons But all these years on the road Putting hell on a throne Til every word I say burns like cinders Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song In the crease of a strangling winter And it's hard to be lost Stranger still to belong On the strings of a twisting line Along the way the turns were sharp No one said it would be easy I must admit I thought the trip Was better made in younger seasons But all these years in pursuit Made a man of a fool til every word I say is unwaivered Well it's hard to belong to a girl or a song In the crease of a strangling winter And it's strange to be lost Stranger still to belong On the strings of a twisting line When the path I have made From the grass to the grave I will love you still And when the sand turns to glass And all that's left is the past I will love you still