In a lifetime of death, a story, to be forgotten, to be remembered.
A revolving door, to go down the escalator that goes up.
To swim against the current, in a lifetime of death, I sigh.
A breeze across my fantasy, my dream of reality.
Heaven locked within our hell, in a lifetime of death, there is a story.
I breathe out life as the world turns and things orbit around it.
Everything so simple, everything here and now, everything to be forgotten.
What is ever saved to be remembered?
Is there anything at all?
I look back, in a lifetime of death, and I see a transition, a story.
The page turns, the world turns, and everything orbits around it.
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