When did my body become the top manufacturer of tears?
A broken wind-up toy, taking one step at a time
I feel that thinking about the future is only a recognition of my fears
And the past is just a canyon of worn stone and salt
Waiting is becoming weightless
I'm losing my center of gravity,
My heavy atmosphere making everyone faceless
Depersately using you as a replacement
Color is becoming dull
But this does not scare me as much as you
If I lose you, I lose it all