Move your hands
if move them you must.
At a steady pace ever so lightly.
Wander off accordingly
leave not a single trace.
Close your eyes
if close them you must.
Momentarily only for me.
Now open wide and let them reside
in the awakening of life.
Patiently hauling the weight of our infancy.
I remember every sound.
Every single heartbreaking sound.
Heavenly memories cut like a knife.
Carving its way through the remains of us.
Lately it seems, everything that we touch
gradually turns into the softest of dust.
We have revalued the worst parts in us.
We have portrayed the delusion of trust.
Lately it seems, everything that we touch
gradually turns into piles of dust.
Sweet.. soft.. dust.
But everything that you took from me
was not to give.
And everything that you thought you'd gain
wasn't there at all.
Heavenly memories cut like a knife.
Carving its way through the remains of us.
Lately it seems, everything that we touch
gradually turns into the softest of dust.
We have revalued the worst parts in us.
We have portrayed the delusion of trust.
Lately it seems, everything that we touch
gradually turns into piles of dust.
Sweet.. soft.. dust.
if move them you must.
At a steady pace ever so lightly.
Wander off accordingly
leave not a single trace.
Close your eyes
if close them you must.
Momentarily only for me.
Now open wide and let them reside
in the awakening of life.
Patiently hauling the weight of our infancy.
I remember every sound.
Every single heartbreaking sound.
Heavenly memories cut like a knife.
Carving its way through the remains of us.
Lately it seems, everything that we touch
gradually turns into the softest of dust.
We have revalued the worst parts in us.
We have portrayed the delusion of trust.
Lately it seems, everything that we touch
gradually turns into piles of dust.
Sweet.. soft.. dust.
But everything that you took from me
was not to give.
And everything that you thought you'd gain
wasn't there at all.
Heavenly memories cut like a knife.
Carving its way through the remains of us.
Lately it seems, everything that we touch
gradually turns into the softest of dust.
We have revalued the worst parts in us.
We have portrayed the delusion of trust.
Lately it seems, everything that we touch
gradually turns into piles of dust.
Sweet.. soft.. dust.