I can never fill impossible spaces
I wander in time, passing up possible mazes
I know we never get to fully enjoy settling in stone,
marbles in the concrete places

Why would I save it for a morning after?
Some kind of anti-matter
Why would I save it for the morning after?
Incased in glass unshattered.

You and I create those plausible spaces,
scaring ourselves, flashlights under our faces
I know we’ll [bad word] fully 
passing ourselves
setting up possible mazes

Why would I save it for the morning after?
Some kind of anti-matter
How would I save it for the morning after?
Incased in glass unshattered

There’s a line on your face
has no meaning at all
until you fall
Makes mornings of days when the windows
can never be too small