Turning the Tide

The world was painted fifty shades of gray back then. Before the quiet

whisper turned into a friend. I was living in the slow lane,

coasting down a hill. Every day a heavy blanket cold and standing still.

My guitar was collecting dust, the strings all flat and dull. I traded chasing

dreams for staring at a wall. I pushed the good folks out, I let the

bad thoughts stay. Just waiting for the current to finally wash me away.

Yeah, I was drowning. Didn't even put up a fight. Lost somewhere in

the silence of an endless lonely night. Then the doctor called your name,