It is in the gap between the long hours, you don't know what to do.

There is a sure need, a desire, you can't put words to.

You spend said gap in trials and errors, hoping you'd get

The correct feeling required to quench an underlying fret.

You try everything you like, all known recipes for happiness,

You take a swing at the odd side, go with the spontaneous.

Yet nothing fills the void, you're exactly at the start

Where the gap began to toy with your tired heart.

The indifferent clocks keep ticking, you don't feel time at all move,

Until it's another beginning, of the quick long hours and the slow gap in a loop.