All the distant nights That vanished from my mind Hang like glistening knives In the back of my mind
I can almost see The phantoms gone in the past What could I ever trade For all that's escaped in time? What can dreams be if nothing ever lasts
In a future where everything's made of glass Each moment carves a piece away Of the sculpture shaped by the passing of days
Hands ever change the days As monuments turn to rust In the grasp of the infinite All mountains crumble to dust Arising from nothing The short dance of existing We're always shifting And always becoming
