Hatchet by Rory Taillon

I’m just the sum of my mistakes,
A total of all my sins,
Reveled in the good times,
But made sure and learned from the bad,
Some of the worst demons I’ve known,
Considered themselves saints,
Constantly testing the theory,
That this too shall pass,

How can that hatchet be buried,
If you keep digging it up,
For one more swing?
For one more swing.

I’m wearing down my teeth,
Scared of what might take place,
Or what might be said,
Or what I might be compelled to say,
In my mind it’s unravelled,
Because someone couldn’t hold their tongue,
If forgiveness is divine,
Then leave it for the gods,

How can that hatchet stay buried,
If you keep digging it up,
For one more swing?
For one more swing.

Just because you choose to see no evil,
Doesn’t mean it’s gone,
I let this fire cleanse me,
And watched the bridge burn,
I let this go on to long,
I’ve run out of all my rope,

How can that hatchet stay buried,
If you keep digging it up,
For one more swing?
For one more swing.

• Alternative
• alternative
• alternative folk
• blues rock
• flange
• indie acoustic
• indie folk
• singer-songwriter
• Ottawa