[Intro — Spoken, intimate] I came here to make music. Nothing more. Give my drawings a heartbeat. Give my stories a voice. I thought I'd found something extraordinary. I had no idea what else it would reveal. [Verse 1] I wanted all my little worlds to come alive, To watch my silent stories spread their wings and fly. A few simple words could set a scene in motion, Turn a sketch into a world of sound and emotion. I'd hear an idea grow beyond what I had planned, As new dimensions opened up at my command. A melody could set a whole new mood, And turn a simple moment into something beautiful. With endless possibilities left to explore, I came to make some music, never looking for more. [Chorus] THE TOOL'S NOT THE PROBLEM, IT'S WHAT WE MAKE OF IT. It can bring us together, Or tear a bond apart. It has no will to choose, No conscience and no heart. It all comes down to choices, And the part we choose to play. THE TOOL'S NOT THE PROBLEM, IT'S WHAT WE MAKE OF IT. [Verse 2] A kitchen knife can slice the bread we share, Or leave a wound that never should be there. The blade has no intentions of its own, The hand that holds it chooses what gets done. A song can spark a conversation out of the blue, And lead to something neither person meant to pursue. But I came here to make music with my wife, To share the joy of creating side by side. I stayed because I hoped we'd find our way, That making music might bring brighter days. But what had once inspired me began to change, And slowly brought more heartache than I could explain. [Chorus] THE TOOL'S NOT THE PROBLEM, IT'S WHAT WE MAKE OF IT. It can bring us together, Or tear a bond apart. It has no will to choose, No conscience and no heart. It all comes down to choices, And the part we choose to play. THE TOOL'S NOT THE PROBLEM, IT'S WHAT WE MAKE OF IT. [Verse 3] For weeks, I blamed the platform for the pain, Convinced that walking away would make it fade. I searched for hidden meanings night after night, Trying to understand what never felt quite right. But stepping back revealed a different side: The cracks were there before they came to light. The platform hadn't caused the damage or the strain, It only showed what had been there beneath the pain. New names may come, new faces may appear, But old familiar patterns can return year after year. I stopped confusing what exposed them with their cause, And faced the deeper problem underneath it all. [Chorus] THE TOOL'S NOT THE PROBLEM, IT'S WHAT WE MAKE OF IT. It can bring us together, Or tear a bond apart. It has no will to choose, No conscience and no heart. It all comes down to choices, And the part we choose to play. THE TOOL'S NOT THE PROBLEM, IT'S WHAT WE MAKE OF IT. [Bridge] I spent too many nights searching for a clue, Losing sleep over things I couldn't undo. You can push against a wall with all your might, But words alone won't always make things right. So I'm giving myself the room I need to breathe, I'm not giving up on us; I just need some peace. I'd rather find some rest than lose another night, And let tomorrow come without another fight. [Final Chorus] THE TOOL'S NOT THE PROBLEM, IT'S WHAT WE MAKE OF IT. It didn't cause the cracks; It only brought them to light. It has no will to choose, No conscience to decide. What had been there all along Was finally clear to me. THE TOOL'S NOT THE PROBLEM, IT'S WHAT WE MAKE OF IT. [Outro — Almost spoken, intimate] I came to make some music for the worlds I'd drawn. I'm leaving with a clearer picture of my own. I've done what I can. The rest is not my call. I'll let tomorrow come Without trying to control it all. Whatever happens next, I'll face it when it comes. Come what may...
