• The day just kinda got away from me.
    Just like the whole month of January.
    Last year just kinda got away from me.
    My whole life is trying to flee.

    I'm so late to the party, everybody is passed out.
    These wounded soldiers on the table, mercy kill em' with my mouth.
    No thought patterns to speak of, only yearning and regret.
    Both of which i am burning on the end of this cigarette.

    I haven't quite discerned when my mind will stop seething yet.

    I'm trying to figure out why i haven't stopped breathing yet.

    And i'm hoping i might find what all the happy folks have gleaned.
    So i start rooting through the cupboards for the differences between.

    I find that everything you give, you will someway get it back.
    And everything you're hoarding you can expect others to lack.
    Every day you live, is left behind on temporal tracks.
    And if your windows are all boarded, life can only seep through cracks.

    I have been told that it's okay to take your time.
    But i guess it reaches a point where things become done or they die.
    I've always been blind to the urgency.
    My whole life i've been dying to see.