Echoes diminished
Could this be the end of an age still unfinished
Part of our nature is finite existance
With lips made to be bitten and each decision is wishing
that we would make up our minds
You hide your age well
but hiding desire is clearly apparent
It's in your eyes as they strain under tension
With lips made to be bitten and each decision is wishing
that we would make up our minds
If you gave regret a shape it would become a pack of wolves
Now their silouettes are standing still
They're lining all horizons
Echoes diminish but this isn't finished
It wouldn't change
It feels like we're fastened into bumper cars
We will overflow amidst the worried hum of old machines who could never change a thing
I have seen the same teeth and I know how much it stings
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