Pulsing: Tired Lungs

Tired lungs
Grasp for rope
All follow where they're led
Follow where they're dragged
Still some hope
For storms to break it down

Wash it off to sea
Just wash it all
The oldest curse
A sick horse wandering towards
Where their fathers heard
Follow fathers words

There's some that hope
And will kill for mom
And never wonder why we can't
Ever stop the wheel
Wash this all