If every night with you feels so exhilarating
Then maybe this is all I need.
Sometimes I find solemness in the concentrating
Yet occasionally I stumble upon devilish greed.

There are moments that could repeat themselves infinitely
And there are wounds that never seem to clot.
As every dream is marked by winding intricacy
The red slips into the laces and patterns in blots.

Days get longer and shadows grow in length
The perfect melody to an everlasting hunger.
Mindless worries leave as misery turns to strength
We are just a compilation of all but less than blunder, at least I wonder.

When I turn around it seems like you forget
That elastic bounces back at the slightest relief
And the wound upon my back starts to admit
Every moment withers along with the movement too brief.