Chekhov's Razor

I draw myself a circle
Just pretending it's a line
Staring blankly at the future
Fates' design instead of mine
I'm always rolling forward
So I can't see where I've been
And soon enough my last remains will be a plastered smile in the wind



Credits
Writer(s): Thomas Tsekerides
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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