how much time is too much time when my island eyes fall right in stride i can t make peace with what works i just get tired of digging up dirt but you are the space between days and i pretend i i can lead you some place i m not concerned with the existence of magic i need something concrete to make use of these new feet a chorus of little fingers singing for magnetic hands i just need a bit of space too often i get caught up wishing for what was and running out of air always tired arms on fire i just can t catch a break my basic instincts are always changing just enough to say you can sing out loud you can sing out loud you can sing out loud without making a sound but i could get comfortable with the existence of magic