We are all late now. The places, the plans, the stories, the people.
I was always late. Misunderstanding your words, turning your voice into
a prayer.
Late for life, late just staring at everyone coming by.

Are we supposed to be walking? Are we supposed to stand still?
How are we supposed to know?
Would you know if is the right moment to do first or do so

I am late though I'm running, running to achieve
To escape
To grab and never let go
The let go, maybe that's why we are late
Cause we are still waiting

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