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