this is no distance it's just your brain
on and on and on it goes to waste
those ideas, swimming slowly
shiftinly like crocodiles

as a figure of tones and blurry colors
fault of the reckless cameras

that's only quiet cause we need to calm
dow-down before the language rules'd be forgotten
and all that fear gets drained in the keyboard

it's pale and the night sings
whispers stingily the feelings:

come, come (go now)
come, come (just go now..)

oh god, i fear to admit i forgot you
but maybe i did, although didn't want to
though there's no distance it's only your brain
on and on and on we're going waste

...and those ideas