Lyrics

the bell, it sounds to end the eighth round, it's a clean strike
but it feels more like the wave of a fire alarm
the champ had thrown every last blow at this kid who'd trained in the wind and the rain
and believed his heart was a charm
through his half-shut eyes with the crowd and the cries and the hovering doctor with the ref by his side
he said "kid have you had enough"
as he sat in his stool with the worn away blue his thoughts brought him back to his time on the track,
he said "Ref I'm saving my stuff"

but the heart may not help
the heart may not help you at all
the heart may not help
the heart cannot help if you fall

so the ninth round starts and his head plays the part but the calls from corner "move your feet, try to counter" never reach his weakening ears
three months straight, fifteen hours everyday in his steel toe kicks on route 56 his mind rejected the fear
so the champ comes forth like a bull with a snort and his fists full of fury forget about a jury it's time to finish him off
all that time at the bag, but the kid's arms sag and the under watering feeling as he found himself kneeling
and he new heart wasn't enough

cause...CHORUS

far away his body floated down a stream
no this wasn't just a dream...

CHORUS out