Fate blows our hearts further away from the sound of beating.
Our mistakes made echo past like wind chimes through the darkest days.
Days I bury myself a little further.
And where we are now seems further all the time.
What once could have been was hearts playing tricks.
Free us, free us from the determined winds of time, the distraught relations of causality that binds us. Never touching, forever wanting to be. Free from the determined winds of time, the distraught relations of causality that blinds us from ever actualizing true self.
Take these hands from within my beliefs and show me, if everything is as must be, my freedom is nothing but a curtain, draped over my eyes to paint the illusion that any of this has any meaning at all.