Rowing A Dead Horse

       D                 Bm                A              D
Chasing the lie, tracing our scars, moaning for help, to be held.
       G                 Bm                E7
And every day we feel further away from ourselves.
       D        Bm      A           C#m
The concrete is wet I feel too comfortable.
       D           Bm           A
My responses are limited to reactions.
       G                  Bm             A
And everything dies its little deaths everyday.
            D          Bm         A          C#m
So with my head up my ass and my foot on the gas.
   D                    Bm        A
I set out to write a synonym for loss.
         D           Bm          A           C#m
Hands caught in the door and my face on the floor,
 G                  D
I'll write one for you.