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Traces [on the fabric of life]

days pass slowly bleeding together like wet sticky paint

alone I breathe and light as a feather I pass ever so quaint

Sometimes i wonder if anything sticks anything i do imprints its traces on the fabric of life or if its all an illusion that plays like an old film etched on that screen full of strife

days pass quickly pulsing rhythms washed out foot prints in sand

together we breathe in deep water we swim and you lend me a hand

days pass slowly bleeding together like wet sticky paint

alone I breathe and light as a feather you pass ever so quaint

Sometimes i wonder if anything sticks anything i do imprints its traces on the fabric of life or if its all an illusion that plays like an old film etched on that screen full of strife


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