Art Of Almost

No!
I froze
I can’t be so far away from my wasteland
I’ll never know when I might ambulance
Or hoist the horns with my own hands
Almost… almost…
I heard a faint old age true love
But I had other ways to help myself
Like calling I could open up my heart and fall
And I blame it all on dust, the art of almost
Almost… almost… almost…
I hold it up, I shake the grade
Disobey across the waves, tomorrow
I have all the love I could ever ache
And I leave almost with you, art of almost
Almost… almost…