The tracks won’t break.
The tracks won’t break.
Soft fingertips are not the correct tool for the job;
Bleed quickly, nails peel back, ineffectual.
When the dark comes, will our sparks converge or sputter out - blind in the absence of illuminating amalgam?

Beyond the steel lines, the air is ink.
One cannot swim, cannot see.
One can only drown…
Afraid, weak.
Hold on to each other.
Take my hand.

Lyrics submitted by uselessaffluence

Glitter Is Made Of Plastic song meanings
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