words & music by jason mraz



Hands in line



Arms close to my side



I'm fighting tides of an ocean's undertow



And I figure I might not make it



And I'm taking empty



But seldom keeping



And the words retreat breathing histories into stories untold



And I unfold.







My hands are high



And I'm holding out, holding up



Because I figure that I just might make it



And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping



And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold



And I unfold.







Quality is what you see now in the corner of your eye.



Don't be surprised if you hear the bells ring



They form from the sky and they sound bong, bong, bong



And I'm holding up because I figure that I just make it.







And I'm waking empty but seldom sleeping



And the words repeat breathing histories into stories untold



And I unfold.