There are days when sorrow seems never-ending 
Like the countless roads upon which I've driven 
The price of attachment in pursuit of dreams 
That I so often can't seem to remember 
Yet there are days when beauty cannot be contained 
It even crawls out from under ordinary things 

foreigner, no place to go 
Holding on, making the most 
Of what little time I have 

All the wasted words I said 
In all the cities that I left 
The last act of our precious play 
Must not close with regret 

I will not leave whishing I had done things differently 

The moments I treasure are seldom the ones 
That I planned for 
And if I knew where pain hid I might still let it go 
So when the audience [bad word] toward the latest drift 
It will be my time to face the life that I have set 

foreigner in my own home 
Holding on, no place to go 

All the wasted words I said 
In all the cities that I left 
The last act of our precious play 
Must not close with regret (regret) 
All the wasted words 

Some days the line between peace 
And pain seems more like a blur 
But I know with certainty 
I can't leave wishing, I cannot leave 
I can't leave wishing I'd done things differently 

All the wasted words I said 
In all the cities that I left 
The last act of our precious play 
Must not close with regret (regret) 
All the wasted words