Maybe once I had a dream…
although I can't remember when.
Now
only a dream
I'm
rising every morning just to see it all again.
Clinging on to the cold edge, with overused and broken hands…
Why
can't I let go? That's just the sort of freedom I will never understand.
So, life without death? It isn't much worth calling “life.” But, by the sharp pain still searing through my body, I can feel that I'm alive. I don't want to try anymore. How much longer does this have to go No. That's stu pid. I already know the answer to that. If this is what you want, if this is a trial of guts,
then I have no choice but to rise to the challenge.
Now this maze has two ways through: One, they call “despair”– To find what was lost, even knowing. That someday all will be lost again.
This maze has two ways through: One, they might call “hope”–
To lose what was found, ever knowing. That someday all will be found again.
Reach for the pale moon, the distance only I can reach. Day followed by night: That moon is like a barrier impossible to breach. Flames lighting my way, into a never-ending night: Night followed by day: ...This sun will overtake again its stolen ring of light. (…Because they're) all that I have left, I'm going to let these feelings ...burn. Once those have been quenched, in some way or another they'll be ready to return. Burn, blister, and fall, and from the ashes I will rise. Smoke leaving its trail, thins nearly into nothing but it never truly dies. Watch as the world grows but will I ever grow along? Each failure shows me yet another way, another reason, to be strong. What more can I lose?