I'll get bold, I'll get wise See the roots of my demise And make some plans for ringing in another year I'll screw up and misspell All the names I know so well And curse myself to find a different hemisphere Get thee gone All the lines can be redrawn To give yourself the perfect little piece of land To turn your handsprings on And string the days along You were right and I was wrong You lean in for a word Tell me things that might occur If only we'd been born into some other life On a lark, on a whim When the doubts are wearing thin Save the chase, the midnight race for another time Get thee gone All the lines can be redrawn To give yourself the perfect little piece of land To turn your handsprings on And string the days along You were right and I was wrong