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Cannot believe it's true, that there are roads left to tread in our shoes. We've got a long way to go. Towards the breaking dawn. We should know by now. Too busy living now, aren't we? Although we've tried to forget about it. Yet we are the only ones that will get up, to make it to the brigades. I feel one day we'll say, we don't want this anymore.
Here we continue, in the morning and amazing. A loom of infinite silence drapes. Keeping what's harder to say, safe behind our clenched teeth. What are we so afraid of? Pull ourselves together... On our path. Time moving faster than we know. We're just bulls, waiting for a sign... At the edge of the end.
Left just as we came. A bit more estranged. All that remains... Seeking comfort in this run down place. What's left, and what's leaving. Stuck on the linguistics of past and present tense. More than just mere footprints.