I’ve been roaming around for so many hollow years
and still I don’t know if I’ll ever find the sweet composure,
but I’m here and now and I’m not spilling any tears.
Tell me,
is it really impossible to reveal the meaning itself?
You and me, two instances of the same fucking despair,
drowning deep in the shadiness because of the thickness of air.

So I ask you,
are we truly satisfied?

This isn’t a love song, it’s just my interpretation of time,
a wristlock of a moment stuck in our unpunishable crime.
If there’s nothing left to say and nothing left to do,
It’s not my cross to bear,
I’ll leave that to you.

I’m doubtlessly divided regarding my own emotions,
and still roaming around looking for sweet sensations,
but I’d be blissful to know a bit of your intentions,
and not so undecided as I am in this time of no devotions.

=)