LYRIC

Come, sit at the table under October’s able skies,
Once we’d seen eye to eye,
I’d known that I’d pass you by, and I tried.

The bell’s chime, telling times,
Completed and lined,
The world moves on, I find,
No, but I, learned of time by your hands.

And in shallow waters, then,
I learned not to swim but to lie,
I await for none, ten or twenty to burn out
I insist on doubts,
We’re already laying on the glass, the glass.

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