There are too many factors to be remembered,
In each second we are fragmented in so many ways.
There are too many mouths to feed when supplies aren't endless.
Some lose their voice if they are to be ignored.
This is a final call for freedom from memory.
The past is simple in a song, go ahead and live any aspect.
Transcendence at its best, I love the feeling of lightness.
What happened to butterflies? When nervous I only get
Preludes to heart attacks.
Things weigh heavy when they matter,
like a matter of importance.
I wish for this rigid stance to relax,
For strained hands to unclasp.
Apr 19, 2011
Apr 19, 2011 at 7:49 AM UTC
There are too many factors to be remembered,
In each second we are fragmented in so many ways.
There are too many mouths to feed when supplies aren't endless.
Some lose their voice if they are to be ignored.
This is a final call for freedom from memory.
The past is simple in a song, go ahead and live any aspect.
Transcendence at its best, I love the feeling of lightness.
What happened to butterflies? When nervous I only get
Preludes to heart attacks.
Things weigh heavy when they matter,
like a matter of importance.
I wish for this rigid stance to relax,
For strained hands to unclasp.
This was an Auto-Write that was composed listening to Black Forest By Pale Young Gentlemen
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