Make More Sense

What I have been is what I could be, but is that what I want?

When I look back at the want that I've known, I know I deserve what I hope to be shown

And I when I hold myself high and I want to be known again

It comes crashing around, I'm tumbling down, and I can never get on my feet again

Can you tell if I know how to be the one that I am?

Because from behind the scenes, I'm looking at me, and I only can see what I used to be

When I speak from the keys, everything makes more sense

When I write, when I sing, when I hold out the ring, everything's back to the basic of being

And I know I should hope for a slightly more probable path

But I know, and it's low, that I never can leave it, it's something I must if it breaks my back

So I hold onto what I have been and it's what I want

It's in the eye of beholders, I've seen when I'm lower, and I know that I never can hold that muck