And then I cut off my hand
To forget the feeling of holding yours
I lie off in an empty grave
So no one asks me to move
I catch my breath, count every second
To feel the mundane, the purpose to lose
Caught in all of the edges, praying to be
Let the concept of being, make you a fool
I love how the tables turn
How I care to see if they feel moved
They go on with their days
While I stay and try to break that mould
Always a watcher, sometimes a pray
When pioneers tear each other's bones
My mind gets carried away by the maze
But my heart tries to carry the only force
Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025 at 10:20 AM UTC
And then I cut off my hand
To forget the feeling of holding yours
I lie off in an empty grave
So no one asks me to move
I catch my breath, count every second
To feel the mundane, the purpose to lose
Caught in all of the edges, praying to be
Let the concept of being, make you a fool
I love how the tables turn
How I care to see if they feel moved
They go on with their days
While I stay and try to break that mould
Always a watcher, sometimes a pray
When pioneers tear each other's bones
My mind gets carried away by the maze
But my heart tries to carry the only force
