I look up at the sky a little too much, too much of my life.
Every time I turn my back, all I can do is mutter.
Where am I going? With that look on your face
In the shadows of the back alleys, the hands of the clock
And the hands of the clock are painted over the time that has stopped.
I held out my hands to you, and we left behind a puzzle that didn't fit together.
I left it behind… until we met.
Something I'd lost… the last piece of it… that I could get back. https://files.catbox.moe/z18wx1.mp4