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Mae 20h
They say
The movement of time
Depends on who you ask
I have always been living
Behind a wall of glass

Faces lit by a blue screen glow
It's always morning here. You'd never know

A touch of god in this rustic land
His presence gave rhythm to these clockwork hands
They say the apple doesn't fall far from the tree
But a bite from it is betrayal guised as being free

Loneliness creeps when everyone you touch is hollow
We get comfortable dating each other's shadow
There's violence in love, there's a formula to follow
Why do you think cupid hits with a bow and arrow?
Mae 19h
A flower that longs to be picked
Is one that will never allow itself to bloom

— The End —