cannot create a thing anymore
threaded from thoughts the spool has been used to the very last,
do you see?
i have became what i hated
gray areas and words faded.
No truths and dead lies on paper,
I read between lines, but
my words have become
nothing but everybodies style.
I wanna reach and contain it,
Remember / obtain it.
Sitting here with the timekeepers
hand on my fingertips,
do you know what i mean?
of course you don't /
something dies / and i cant explain what i need.