We're swirling,
through the open landscapes in the universe...

Underneath the fading grass and leaves,
lies a poor soul taken from the world...

There was a chill in the room when I came to...
I had answered my own question...

Your light hit me as if you weren't there.
I could feel a lingering of your words...

You were crafted by a dream.
The dream of a young boy coming to terms...

It leaves me with a half-hearted, soft...
The echoes already starts to decay...

The 11:52 train is leaving platform four.
We, the hardworking lower middleclass, huddle...

A cold dead body on the ground;
lifeless meat against wet concrete...

You were crafted by a dream.
The dream of a young boy coming to terms...

On top, down low.
I'm stuck, you know...