Facing New York. Swimming Not Treading. Claim / Subclaim. Zeneszám

Soles are worn out in my tennis shoes
mother please carry me home
the process of progress is killing me (now i can't go on)
someone please carry me home

and my cold feet slow me down
they haunt me now...

Claim to subclaim, now turn it off
i'm doing the best that i can
Act for react, now turn it off
i'm doing the best that i can

could i be losing the will to walk?
maybe it's time to run
and Madison's where i will build my name (from the bottom up)
where i will work in the sun

and the science slows me down
but i'm free now...

Claim to subclaim, now turn it off
i'm doing the best that i can
Broken finger, now burn it off
i'm doing the best that i can

shedding the smile i used to wear
(left alone to my despair)
learning how not to let it break my stride
casting my tennis shoes aside
(missing what was left behind)
a dead man is plotting his return tonight

burn, let me feel the burn,
i'm lighting a match to all i've known
think, i just want to think,
but this could have been a pauper's parade

Claim to subclaim, now turn it off
i'm doing the best that i can
Blood on my hands, now wash it off
i'm doing the best that i can