When q tips become filters and theres a rose colored hue
adrift and sublime in the night. After the gold rush
Lingers a glow that will soon flush
And the binding is strong with its touch
We try to hold on hold on hold on before it goes away, again
Roaming thoughts alongside the roaming American miles
To be paradoxically so ******* lost and found
My pulse likes to elaborate on each moment passing through a gate
And all we will ever have is now
But its on a delay now i don't know if what exactly im seeing
Its all in the past im percieving
But if i close my eyes i can hear a reprise and i just laugh at it all unfolding
Infinite jest haunts the shadows evermore...