Waste

The landscape of beings
Are constantly competing
This void in my chest
Is aching to expand
Beyond what I understand

We move in slow succession
And it painfully unravels
Every sacred thread
Memories reduced to shadows
When we pull back the lens
Nothing is left

Time, ever moving forwards
Taking captive moments left, unfelt
Hours ticking onwards
With bloody knees and aching feet
It must go on

We move in slow succession
And it painfully unravels
Every sacred thread
Memories reduced to shadows
When we pull back the lens
Nothing is left



Credits
Writer(s): Bek Arascunaga
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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