Move in time
Balance the last trembles of days
Here in time
Instantaneous bakes of clays
Plowed to root and shoot
To promise
To feel
To spore
Come chains
Burn a chunk along my ills
The end seems like the spinning lathe
We born goodbye and sit in silence now
Even in those of iron
The swell
The drip
With burn
From the edge
From the crowd
From the fathom
From the shame
And the nights were young when the sweeter left
And the hurt has taken me
Did you say you won't
Would you say you moved to the sweeter kind of scene
When the dagger is gone and I cannot know
And I cannot want to be
For the light was known
And the sweeter left and it cannot stay for me
To watch the stars in stereo
To reach the stars mysterio