I'm chasing an imprint of something I can't touch. The fruit of my labor, is nothing without an apple for my eyes. With distance, I'll decide if I have the heart, if I have the heart to stay.
It may get the best of me again, my tendency toward tautology. Tarmac abounds the distance between us, much like the distance from my head to the ground. I'm a fool, I'm a fool.
I'm chasing an imprint of something I can't touch. The fruit of my labor, is nothing without an apple for my eyes. With distance, I'll decide if I have the heart, if I have the heart to stay.
Oh, this mess that I've made. No, we can't turn the clocks back now. It's time for my actions to speak way louder than words, so loud I'll never speak again.
I am what I am, flesh, blood, and bone. I am what I am, hopeful and alone.
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