from the single spinning wheel
to the constant thrill of not losing our minds.
i just can't tell, i just can't tell
if this really helps my heart to grow,
'cause right now it feels like spilling it all over
different places, different faces.
and if that's the case,
what will be left when i get home?!
distance barely has a thing to say
on this pile of feelings anyway
it’s dead end for all well considered,
just a twisted mind is left to pray
that fate somehow helps this place to grow,
as it never ever felt this small.
even rememberance's spilled all over
various bases, various traces.
and it's right and order
in every drop behind every border.
again i'm out in the night,
hoping that this time i drown myself in answers not questions
- at least no further suggestions.
to all the thieves:
you're safe, relief!
as long as there is any attraction
to my words and actions.
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