The projectionist

When I was young I fell in love with story
With the eleventh hour, with the blaze of glory

The theater lights dim and all goes quiet
In the darkest of rooms, light shines the brightest

When hands are tied and clocks are ticking
An audience convinced: we’re leaning in
Holding our breath again

Just when we thought the game was over
The music lifts and our dying solider lives!
And we breathe a sigh of relief

We’re leaving, we’re leaving our shadows behind us now
We’re leaving, we’re leaving it all behind for now

But even dust was made to settle
And if we’re made of dust, then what makes us any different?
I guess we give what we’ve been given:
A family tree so very good at giving up
When we’ve had enough
Though truth is heavier than fiction
Gravity lifts as the projectionist rolls tape
And it makes us brave again
And it makes us brave again
And it makes us brave

So we’re leaving, we’re leaving our shadows behind us now
We’re leaving, we’re leaving it all behind for now
And it makes us brave again
And it makes us brave
We’re leaving, we’re leaving ‘em all behind for now