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Donuts in a Six Speed
Dikembe
Popularity ยท Moderate
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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How much time is too much time?
When my island eyes fall right in stride
I can't make peace with what works
I just grow tired of digging up dirt
But you are the space between days
And I pretend I can lead you some place
But I'm not concerned with
The existence of magic
I need something concrete
To make use of these new feet
A of little fingers singing for magnetic hands
I just need a bit of space
Too often I get caught up wishing for what was
And running out of air
Always tired, arms on fire
I just can't catch a break
My basic instincts are always changing
Just enough to say
"You can sing out loud without making a sound."
I could get comfortable with the existence of magic
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