countdown to

wounds that you can't smell or touch these are my eyes my open gates
to the nothingness which i recived from crawling to somethingthat i thought it was you
later saw they we're red ants crawling as i was doing red because of
their eyes opened to the apocalypse in 3 2 1 0 nerves remained to blame for the dust
blown in the dust blown in the dust in the midlle of my ways to talk to you

if i see you and i don't speak 
that means there will be a 
new season to brake&keep
as a memory of what could've been whole