Take what you've got, take comfort,
in that everything you know, or seen
will soon be a non existent dot.
Who'll save the world that claims there is no saving?
An illusion or delusion of grandeur.
Half of what I say is bliss, the other half is meaningless.
Comfortable lines. Wating for the clock to heal us.
Lost and found, but never touched.
Another beating heart is lost:
Interesting lies. Waiting for the clock to heal us.
Alone in our rooms, miserable, a tornado or an owl,
come back and isolate the balance.
Nothing is real; your heart on your sleeve,
just another lie, transcend the pride, oh the chemicals.
Take your time, nothingness is something and something is nothing.
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