I’ll admit it, I came here looking for a miracle, I heard the engine breaking down And I felt the brakes go. But maybe that’s what happens At a certain point in time, The contrast starts to ease back ‘Til the lyric doesn’t rhyme. My mind plays tricks on me, I see it now, I could’ve sworn I had felt all I had felt all I would feel, But I’m not holding for a hiding place, Just a slow correction of the wheel. And all I see now Is a stranger in your place, Who caught you with your guard down And couldn’t hesitate. But maybe that’s what happens, Every now and then, The colours get so washed out That the story doesn’t end. So, life played a trick on you, I see it now, Trying every chance to tell you how to feel, but, Maybe all it takes to find your way Is a slow correction of the wheel. Still there’s a feeling that I get That I just can’t figure out, When I open up my mouth and I can’t ever make a sound, And I’m headed for the shoulder with the tires spinning now, And the music’s making more sense Than the words I’ve written down. But still, on the darkest days, I see it now, That there’s just no telling what ain’t real, But maybe all that matters anyway, Is a slow correction of the wheel. Maybe all that matters anyway, Is a slow correction of the wheel.

I’ll admit it, I came here looking for a miracle, I heard the engine breaking down And I felt the brakes go. But maybe that’s what happens At a certain point in time, The contrast starts to ease back ‘Til the lyric doesn’t rhyme. My mind plays tricks on me, I see it now, I could’ve sworn I had felt all I had felt all I would feel, But I’m not holding for a hiding place, Just a slow correction of the wheel. And all I see now Is a stranger in your place, Who caught you with your guard down And couldn’t hesitate. But maybe that’s what happens, Every now and then, The colours get so washed out That the story doesn’t end. So, life played a trick on you, I see it now, Trying every chance to tell you how to feel, but, Maybe all it takes to find your way Is a slow correction of the wheel. Still there’s a feeling that I get That I just can’t figure out, When I open up my mouth and I can’t ever make a sound, And I’m headed for the shoulder with the tires spinning now, And the music’s making more sense Than the words I’ve written down. But still, on the darkest days, I see it now, That there’s just no telling what ain’t real, But maybe all that matters anyway, Is a slow correction of the wheel. Maybe all that matters anyway, Is a slow correction of the wheel.