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I can never fill impossible spaces
I wander in time, passing up possible mazes
I know we never get to fully enjoy settling in stone,
marbles in the concrete places
Why would I save it for a morning after?
Some kind of anti-matter
Why would I save it for the morning after?
Incased in glass unshattered.
You and I create those plausible spaces,
scaring ourselves, flashlights under our faces
I know we’ll always come fully
passing ourselves
setting up possible mazes
Why would I save it for the morning after?
Some kind of anti-matter
How would I save it for the morning after?
Incased in glass unshattered
There’s a line on your face
has no meaning at all
until you fall
Makes mornings of days when the windows
can never be too small