I can't be so far away from my wasteland 
I'll never know when I might ambulance 
or hoist their hearts with my own hands 
Almost... almost... 

I heard a faint old age lover 
I had other ways to help myself 
By calling out, open up my heart and fall 
And I blame it all on dust, the art of almost 
Almost... almost... 

I hold it up, shake the grade 
Disobey across the waves, tomorrow 
I have all the love I can ever ache 
and I leave the most with you, art of almost
Almost... almost...