On a static evening
Couldn't move my hands
Couldn't wait again
The mechanism's been failing
Couldn't look the other way
Couldn't think of something else
It's a glasshouse I'm living in
And the air has filtered in
I'm breathing all of time and space
And feeling all my wounds and theirs
It's probably some word you said
Or a strange movement someone made
The colors of the streets at night
That displaced something in my head
Is there anything good to say
Anything that could make a mends
Gathered the strength and closed my eyes
Trying to fly over myself
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
On a static evening
Couldn't move my hands
Couldn't wait again
The mechanism's been failing
Couldn't look the other way
Couldn't think of something else
It's a glasshouse I'm living in
And the air has filtered in
I'm breathing all of time and space
And feeling all my wounds and theirs
It's probably some word you said
Or a strange movement someone made
The colors of the streets at night
That displaced something in my head
Is there anything good to say
Anything that could make a mends
Gathered the strength and closed my eyes
Trying to fly over myself