Finite
You say it's a collection of thoughts
stitched with pieces of your heart
All of which I don't seem to understand
These celestial metaphors only give me a sense of emptiness
Because even if art is what you aim to create
In my eyes, your canvas is blank
Slow, but in a rush
As these new scars
In your search for the truth
In a shade of midnight blue
As you lose your place
And as all pass you by
Within a grander scheme
There's no room to run
In these queen city streets
stitched with pieces of your heart
All of which I don't seem to understand
These celestial metaphors only give me a sense of emptiness
Because even if art is what you aim to create
In my eyes, your canvas is blank
Slow, but in a rush
As these new scars
In your search for the truth
In a shade of midnight blue
As you lose your place
And as all pass you by
Within a grander scheme
There's no room to run
In these queen city streets
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