time slips from my fingers
when i count each passing day
that passes by like passerbys
on a busy street
walking past me, my disillusioned form
an escaped daydream from a chronic sleepwalker
a recurring thought
the clinking of atoms like drinking glasses
the passage of space
things don't make sense nowadays
never really did
i'm just a ghost with no body to call home
translucent and vague
people watching forever
forever a thought bubble in a lonely man's world.
Mar 31, 2022
Mar 31, 2022 at 2:16 PM UTC
time slips from my fingers
when i count each passing day
that passes by like passerbys
on a busy street
walking past me, my disillusioned form
an escaped daydream from a chronic sleepwalker
a recurring thought
the clinking of atoms like drinking glasses
the passage of space
things don't make sense nowadays
never really did
i'm just a ghost with no body to call home
translucent and vague
people watching forever
forever a thought bubble in a lonely man's world.
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