But how can I see
The glass half full when really
It is all empty
The glass half full when really
It is all empty
in space, the atoms found their mark
somewhere far from everybody's heart
from then on, on a purge to the deep end
you persist, someone told you the answer
lies under 6 feet of sea sand.
every twist of inadequacy's blade
(each one worse than the previous)
fell in a rhythmic order, one that your silence
carried in. did you hate me?
you'd never say so. so blindly, i never changed.
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