In my time of dying all i've grown to be
English can't define these feelings
I keep waiting
There's a strange time called trying that's vague like us
I can always try harder which means i never try enough

My mind is always crying
Concentration, saturation
An aquaintance is so naive
Or just a blind soul

Fifty and a month
Is so long for some

Understanding becomes my snair
The harder i struggle, the more confined i become
Does quanity stop at empty
Does quanity stop with you

Fifty and a month
Is just a blink for me

Fifty and a month