Flat on my back, I can feel myself falling
Into a singular state of mind;
As if through a fog, I can hear someone calling
I know I'm cutting it fine
Thinking that maybe it's time to cross the line

The last thing I need's any outside assistance;
Whatever I do will be what has been done
And if force is applied, let it be from a distance
Right now I'm biding my time;
Hold on, I'm biting my tongue
Hoping I'm timing my run across the line

It's all gone so quiet and scary
I can feel the bloodrush in my ears
If only I could keep my head
If only I could keep my head from spinning
If only I could keep my head
I'd cross the line

Is that the finish in sight or a mist that's descending?
The geometry's blurred at the edge of the scene
At the vanishing point there'll be no perfect ending
No final dotting of "i"s, no chance of crossing the "t"s –
At last, unpicked at the seams, I'll cross the line