Limbs

I hope that I won't forget how it feels
To live a life without anything real.
So one day I'll be at
A place where I know that
This is the start of something new,
I can't tell you what, but I feel it.
I have done nothing else but
sit here, wasting away.
And even though our lives are long,
These days are short and fleeting;
I'm keeping count, I'm keeping count
Of all the time we're wasting.
My limbs: they grow, ever quickly.
But I can't help but feel that they're lacking something.
But maybe I'm missing some point that I can't see.
This is the start of something new,
I can't tell you what, but I feel it.
I have done nothing else but
sit here, wasting away.
And even though our lives are long,
These days are short and fleeting;
I'm keeping count, I'm keeping count
Of all the time we're wasting.
We are gone; Our hearts are old, but our limbs are young.
This is the start of something new,
I can't tell you what, but I feel it.
I have done nothing else but
sit here, wasting away.
And even though our lives are long,
These days are short and fleeting;
I'm keeping count, I'm keeping count
Of all the time we're wasting.