We don't have to count the days until the sun will set.
There is no final resting place, our fate is just to drift.
What is there to measure without telling when the sun will ever set?
This ship won't ever land.
A thought I know is crass for each piece of rock we pass
drifting through vacant space I can't forget your face
another final gasp for each time our fingers clasp
more distance from that place your memory still remains.
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