Returning empty handed

Speak of the years of growing weary.. I'll sing this to the end And watch the waves crash over me Speak of the years of growing weary I'll sing this to the end And watch the waves crash over me I feel much too overcome with enough time To turn it all around In a picture perfect scenery I've become a stick figure illustration My eyes roll back and focus, on what's at hand I cant still stand if you leave the hand to praise me I'll take this on my own I'll take this on my own I'll take this on