All That’s Left
Words and Music By Anne Stott

It’s the sixty-first of April, the fourteenth month of the year
It’s the latest hour of all my fears
I walk your streets, I’ve got nowhere to call home
It’s too much for my feet to hold their own

Hollowed hearts don’t beat right
Clouded minds won’t think
Blood shot eyes can’t see
All that’s left is failed instinct
All that’s left is failed instinct
All that’s left
All that’s left
All that’s left

There are woods in my back alley, two gates guard the door
This yellow police line don’t protect me anymore
This bed I’ve made don’t give me any rest
I’m all out of answers I’ve failed every test

Hollowed hearts don’t beat right
Clouded minds won’t think
Blood shot eyes can’t see
All that’s left is failed instinct
All that’s left is failed instinct
All that’s left
All that’s left
All that’s left

Slow down before you go there’s a second in between
It’s just before the exhale and after all you’ve seen

Do you know where I’m going?
Are you filled with my fear?
Will you shower me with love?
Will you stay right here?

Hollowed hearts don’t beat right
Clouded minds won’t think
Blood shot eyes can’t see
All that’s left is failed instinct
All that’s left is failed instinct
All that’s left
All that’s left
All that’s left

© 2007 Anne Stott. All rights reserved.