Time scars all with the wounds they were said to heal
Sure the marks not visible, but the pain is ever so real
Staring at the hands that mend my fate
Circadian rythum thrown off is it too early or too late?
Half or a quater of my past an electrical impulse away
Memories faded by time but the pain is here to stay
The smell of your clothes, a nostalgic aroma
Time heals all wounds as these scars get older