In my time of dying all I've grown to be
English can't define these feelings
I keep waiting
There's a strange time called trying that's vague like us
I can always try harder which means I never try enough

My mind is always crying
Concentration, saturation
An acquaintance is so naive
Or just a blind soul

Fifty and a month
Is so long for some

Understanding becomes my snare
The harder I struggle, the more confined I become
Does quantity stop at empty
Does quantity stop with you

Fifty and a month
Is just a blink for me

Fifty and a month