I'm tired of standing on my history
I'm tired of rust and rain around my bed
it's a language I could never learn
a different kind of distance
it's the simple things that I regret.
Was I at my peak on temple floors?
Was it the start of something ill-defined?
It's the loose teeth I can't leave alone
I'm safer in the forest
it's the trace of lines you left behind.
I don't know who I am, I don't know anymore
I'm too old to be so sure.
I guess I lived in black and white too long
until I lost my texture and my touch
did you see me through kaleidoscopes
and think I was embellished?
'cos I know I never offered much.
I always had the answers up my sleeve
to the questions that I chose to hear
and I know you're tired of my remorse
you're tired of my discomfort
so I'll pretend that I'm still here.
I don't know who I am, I don't know anymore
I'm too old to be so sure.
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