routine was the theme, he'd wake up and...wash and pour himself into uniform 常规是主题，他会醒来......洗净，倒入自己变成均匀

something he hadn't imagined being... 这是他没有想到是...

as the merging traffic passed, he found himself staring, down, at his own hands.. 作为合并的流量通过，他惊奇地看到，倒在了自己的手中...

not remembering the change, not recalling the plan, was it...? 没有记忆的改变，而不是召回计划，是吧... ？

he was okay, but wondering about wandering 他很不错，但想了解一下徘徊

was it age? by consequence? or was he moved by sleight of hand? 被它的年龄？由结果？还是他用花招感动？

mondays were made to fall, lost on a road he knew by heart 周一作了下跌，失去了在道路上，他知道了心脏

it was like a book he read in his sleep, endlessly... 它像一本书，他在睡梦中读，没完没了...

sometimes he hid in his radio, watching others pull into their homes 有时他藏在他的广播，看别人拉进自己的家

while he was drifting... 当他漂流...

on a line, of his own, off the line, on the side 上一条线，他自己的，断了线，就在身边

by the by, as dirt turned to sand, as if moved by sleight of hand 靠了靠，如粪土翻沙，仿佛感动戏法

when he reached the shore of his clip-on world 当他到达了他的夹式世界的海岸

he resurfaced to the norm 他复出的常态

organized his few things, his coat and keys... 他组织了几件事情，他的外套和钥匙...

any new realizations would have to wait til he had more time, more time... 任何新的实现将不得不等待直到他有更多的时间，更多的时间...

time to dream, to himself 时间梦想，给自己

he waves goodbye, to himself 他挥手告别，自己

i'll see you on the other side... 我会看到你的另一面...

another man...moved by sleight of hand... 另一个男人......由花招感动...