Count me in, count my days, count me out.
Your whisper has been covered by noise,
and all my failures are without reason.

And you may use me and build me and fail me.

I've stopped counting my days,
and now these days are counting me out.

Broken and torn down with room for the
new things that will come.
And all my failures are without reason.

Burn the old, for new things to come