Let those who wake despair upon the night.
For through it all they loved has turned to gray.
Like the ever-fading memories of all we hoped be.
In an instant lost to waters deep forever more to keep.
This loss pervades the spirit.
A spectre of doubt in every breath.
A second from failure.
A lifetime of doubt.
Confident in the permanence of the moment.
Trusting in the encouragement of actuality.
But all we have will one day slip away as the past tense replaces the present.
Time slips right through our grasp.
And laughs as it leaves.
Singing with triumphant might, "The way things are is not how they shall be. On trust this fact."
This is a light in the sky that blinds those who foolishly look.
This knowledge corrupts us.
Let those condemned with life confess this sin: they believe that truth is lasting.
But every truth must one day turn to dust.
Must only self-destruction be reality?
This loss envelops the being.
For every hope is fleeting.
A second from failure.
A lifetime of doubt.
In this I trust: all things will fade but longing.
All we have will one day pass.
And laugh as it leaves.
Singing with triumphant might, "All roads lead to me and nothing escapes my grasp. One day, you will succumb."
For through it all they loved has turned to gray.
Like the ever-fading memories of all we hoped be.
In an instant lost to waters deep forever more to keep.
This loss pervades the spirit.
A spectre of doubt in every breath.
A second from failure.
A lifetime of doubt.
Confident in the permanence of the moment.
Trusting in the encouragement of actuality.
But all we have will one day slip away as the past tense replaces the present.
Time slips right through our grasp.
And laughs as it leaves.
Singing with triumphant might, "The way things are is not how they shall be. On trust this fact."
This is a light in the sky that blinds those who foolishly look.
This knowledge corrupts us.
Let those condemned with life confess this sin: they believe that truth is lasting.
But every truth must one day turn to dust.
Must only self-destruction be reality?
This loss envelops the being.
For every hope is fleeting.
A second from failure.
A lifetime of doubt.
In this I trust: all things will fade but longing.
All we have will one day pass.
And laugh as it leaves.
Singing with triumphant might, "All roads lead to me and nothing escapes my grasp. One day, you will succumb."