In between the lines,
Sieved through false intellect
And passive reactions,
Quietly,
Time leaked by in fractions,
Dull and Gory,
the same old story,
Of questions asked,
and nights trashed,
And then this desire to relive,
a moment that's passed,
The soft transition,
of the night into the the morn,
This weird desire to belong,
to the time that's gone.
