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