And after all that we have done and seen, We wait for some magic to undo what has been, But its all already lived and gone, Past, after all, is just a part of a journey, which starts before we were even born.
We are living an infinity, We are probably not even alive, We are just memories, Of the man above, and in us he smiles.
He makes us breathe, and he makes us think, in us he lives and in us he loves, gives us life.
Down the drain, down the drain, follow the sand down the drain. His soul woven cloak awaits, scythe in hand, ferry leaving the docks. Crooked steps, cold and blackened breath, take me unto you. One leg in the grave, half
Living between the deaths as a witness to a silence between the words. Leaves had fallen: yet a dry tree was still flowering exuberantly under a scorching sun. My day has come, but I was far away from shores of