Clayhill Halfway Across
We may never make it out of here
We are wound into the brown
You got people on the outside
I got people on the ground
You're the last tree standing
And I won't cut you down
You ought to see now it's all the same
We are a number a side on the dice
You ought to see now we're all in plain
View of the madness view of the lies
You ought to see now it's all a sell
There's nothing to gain its all counted loss
You ought to see now we're overwhelmed
We're only ever half way across
If we ever make it out of here
Kill a reason make it round
Find a chapter on the outside
Drive a stake into the ground
You're the last tree standing
And I won't let you down.
