4 acessos
Why do I read, read between the lines
Create the ideal
Interpret
What's not there
Time has passed, no sights have changed
Misplaced pattern, rearrange
The light, the end
Mirage past, the moment is gone
I slip, fear grips
I fall back
Time has past, no skies have changed
Misplaced patterns, rearrange
Will this be
My last point of reference
Go black
My will
Put to rest
In darkness descend
With a loss of control
The next step is clear
Suppressing what used to me
I turn away