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.