You can put into words what I can’t find in myself.
Promises seem fleeting, but you’re never so far away.
If all I could do is get these eyes to shed some works
I’d know there’s still a beat within my chest
and there’s still a chance I haven’t given up
Yet, I’m never quite sure of myself
I’m never quite sure about much of anything
I am sure, though, that I could always be wrong about you.
I know more than anything that I waste time and space,
but if its going to be worthless, let it be worth less to me
than it does to you.
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