henry green
we move apart out in the open
never too far
we're moving parts
free in the moment
we take them too fast
half speed
open up
we see everything wider
no longer biding
hold me close enough
arm's reach
no longer idle
no longer hiding
i'm moving parts
still in the moments
but free when they've passed
loose touch
we're not apart
i'm lost in the opus
i've washed over us too much