Lyrics:

In this race there's no keeping pace
Bare foot under naked skies
Masks unveil and so does clouds
Remark, sun stands high
The price of pursuit will cost your feet

Close enough isn't closing in
Close enough isn't closing in

Close enough isn't closing in
You won't ever climb high enough
Close enough isn't closing in
You won't ever run fast enough

Point a finger down righteousness' path
They will follow you and lift you up
You shall never walk again

Exposure lies in the eye of the beholder
Exposure lies in the eye of the beholder
We see what we're presented with
But are you willing to look a little further?

Close enough isn't closing in
Close enough isn't closing in
Close enough isn't closing in

Close enough isn't closing in
You won't ever climb high enough
Close enough isn't closing in
You won't ever run fast enough
Close enough isn't closing in
You won't ever climb high enough
Close enough isn't closing in
You won't ever run fast enough

Close enough isn't closing in
We're closing in, we're climbing higher and higher
Close enough isn't closing in
We're closing in, we're running faster and faster
Close enough isn't closing in
We're closing in, we're climbing higher and higher
Close enough isn't closing in
We're closing in, we're running faster and faster

Confine these treacherous undoings. We choose what we're given. And I live, so I'll live in these brief unmeasurable intervals called moments. But the only thing I get to keep are the sticks and stones. Just like memories, these will break and crumble in to scraps and splinters in the palms of my hands. When the hourglass has been crushed I am just a man pouring my own sand in the pools I created. So I look up, staring wide then sealing my eye lids tight, crossing fingers over hands hearing myself screaming to this man on the moon. It's too loud, can he even hear my cries? I dream of spinning wheels marking the late canopies when they should drive me home. Don't fly away again little mocking bird, you should sing for me. It's been so long since I heard the melody of a thousand running springs. Now the reminiscence just reminds me of myself. Why would I need to tell myself about how I never learned to fly with my own arms, and how can anyone cloud state even listen if I couldn't. My feet are soar from all this dancing with an axe in my arm, it never tasted wood and I can never really build a ladder tall enough. I can climb these walls around me and I can outrun my past but only for so long, until there are no winds to catch the sails that I've sown and my lungs have dried out from all the anger I've burnt. I'll be staring wide at the velvet canopy, then closing my eyes, crossing fingers over hands hearing myself whispering words of hope and humility to a wind that I believe will carry my prayers to one who listens