The day the sun is put away embarks the motion in our atmosphere. Illuminating eyes along the way and withered tale of fathomed hearts and a bag of hands. The rhythym is defined but the motion is finding me.
By follwoing sallowed grieving tracks, the primp exposed the faces of courage, faces that have broken our backs.
Creeping behind undetectable lines, disguising this fiction from truth, tempered allegations, hiding behind all the lives we choose, Don't breathe again and hold on tight, but you're breathing again and holding on tight.
With all the lives we choose we trade in lies for truth.
Detection furthers our chances.
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