Idle Hands

We are barefooted
The grass stiffens from the cold
Walking over a
Giving glass floor

I bet you know what I’m thinking
You seem to be losing your land
Finally fine with you leaving
You and your idle hands

Starts in your head
Flow is persistent
Disregards where you’ve been
Exasperated
Intimidate
Oh my, the folds in your face

So I sit here watching and waiting
For this dead air to change
My life is growing more stagnant
I'm burning away
My mindset seems antiquated
When will time rearrange?
Pieces that I once held so dearly

(define the line that divides fiction from finite)
Slight of hand
You're missing it
Slight of hand
You're missing it
Define the line that divides Fiction from finite

We drove round town
'Til we found out
The lights were off
The truth is found In hollow ground