50 And A Month کے بول

In my time of dying all i've grown to be English can't define these feelings I keep waiting There's a strange time called trying that's vague like us I can always try harder which means i never try enough My mind is always crying Concentration, saturation An aquaintance is so naive Or just a blind soul Fifty and a month Is so long for some Understanding becomes my snair The harder i struggle, the more confined i become Does quanity stop at empty Does quanity stop with you Fifty and a month Is just a blink for me Fifty and a month