Clocking Hours

3rd desk to the left u typing away
You want to say what you feel
But you wonder who cares what’s real
This is what you expect
And some days it takes even less
To get through
Wanna be who you are but you’re so lost
Clocking hours, ive been waiting
Help me now (in)stead of turning away
Barely hanging on
But there’s nothing wrong, right?
When everything you touch turns gold
And you can’t hold it on you’re own
On your own
She belong to malice on the off day
Won’t greet you softly maybe out of her usual
Not in the mood
Told you you don’t communicate in the typical ways
But you have nothing to prove
You got shit worth saying too
She’s the type to typ until they’re all gone
3 dsks to the left from the big guy
Never got to
Gotta get up from the looks of it im laying
Iv never been the type to wait for something better
Its born a long ride
But only you
And all the this wight is hard to hold
Keep things for myself
Clock tells you time waitin
Something else something better
Everything I touch turns to gold, but its too heavy to carry on my own
Iv been alone all this time
I don’t understand what’s the hype if you’re not by my side
Tactic lowride
Help me instead of turning away