Letras
Hands hesitate, scared of scarring the sand
Waiting for more days, outstretched begging hands
Cursing the waiter, drinking rain from a can
Starting to recognize yourself in the mirror but it's not you
Too slow to keep up with time
Doing things and not knowing why
It's hard not to think that old love was a lie
Where does it go, is it destroyed or just rearranged?