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the old man broken hands of building on us sealed shut swollen holding head in silence corrected, i am young man idle and avoiding faster pace make stalling years of vacant laughter effectively declining urgency and moments balance to me, watching the others to be falling together begins falling apart careless to keep, it tears the extremity cries the thrower as he throws his arm all these years, what is there to be? what's worth the open arms, what is it to me? bail! adjust the past, adjust the angle, adjust the notice we already know that we set process to pass....barely how could love be asking of when i've been asking all the time? shocking to see...oh! thrower's dramatically holding his arms back! blind, i'm bracing and choking up when i see us growing apart From Letras Mania