Pushing a ribcage   Makes it hard to breathe   And yet we hold our sweaty hands   Year after year   Some new year   Without music in our head   Newspaper tenement coming up dead      So my paracute is hanging around   I guess I bust it on the ground   Nothing helps me fall   Nothing helps me float   Today I want to walk away      Pushing a ribcage   Makes it hard to breathe   And yet we whisper in the dark   Year after year   Some new year   Without newness in our head   Newspaper tenement coming up dead      So my paracute is hanging around   I guess I bust it on the ground   Nothing helps me fall   Nothing helps me float   Today I want to walk away