time is the bottom of the bag
every last hit laced with frustration
my coordination wears off
but you best believe this isn't me
i am undersea
and you can't save me from drowning
i am a submarine
and you should forget all you've seen
there's not much room here for breathing
a silent hunger spins the cieling
i trip and fall and lose the feeling
make me king of your meaning
until the paint on my portrait's peeling
until the sky becomes my bed
and the time i've wasted slips away
it's all frustration in life so in the end
don't forget to breathe
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