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Moments In Time

Postdrome

Black lungs inhale
Your words like smoke
Your looks are never true

These withered hands
I think have found
A wounded heart to mend

I try
See your mouth
To heal
Sutured up
Infecting
Festering
What’s real

Black lungs inhale
Your words like smoke
Your looks are never true

These withered hands
I think have found it
I reach out

But I can’t feel a thing
I can’t fee
Searching for your tears in rain
Tell me does it feel the same
Knowing there’s no other way

I exist to die
A photograph that fades to white

What if I could try
To paint another night
Would I?

Tearing a way
Another look at my shape

Trying to say
You never think of my face

Our sound (the time it takes to fall apart)
Buried in your deaf ears
(The time it takes to fall apart
Build it from my bones
(The time it takes)
Feel it inside of my skin

Our sound, buried in your deaf ears
Build it from my bones
Feel it inside of my skin

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