Echo the soft strain of time
Beating waves on consciousness' door
All of a sudden, sleep creeps past
Wept like the was no tomorrow
For some, there never was today
White light through the clouded day
A hope in this dark garden
I can only breathe as long
As I know this is real...
Real like... what is real?
It is not simple feeling
It is not simple being
Does anyone else feel real?
By a round of applause, tell me
Can you feel yourself when you fade
Into a beacon light faded?
When we die, is it sickness?
Or is it that we've been forgotten?
It would seem to me that
Nothing we haven't seen exists
Unless we believe it's there
And so the power over all
Lies in the hands of us
And we slowly lose ground to apathy
Only succeeding to negate ourselves
