50 and A Month
In my time of dying all I've grown to be
english can't define these feelings
I keep waiting
There's a strange time called trying that's vague like us
I can always try harder which means I never try enough
My mind is always crying
concentration, saturation
An aquaintance is so naive
or just a blind soul
fifty and a month
is so long for some
Understanding becomes my snair
the harder I struggle, the more confined I become
does quanity stop at empty
does quanity stop with you?
fifty and a month
is just a blink for me
fifty and a month
Writer/s: Ignite
