| Maybe we are the stars indeed
|
| Gloriously burning with this stolen flame
|
| Conceited in the streams of the self
|
| To warm us up in our cold microcosmos
|
| To find reason where there is none
|
| And create the truth
|
| Where even lie does not exist
|
| To conform, adapt to the universe
|
| That was never built for us
|
| To conform, adapt to the universe
|
| That does not care
|
| Like every star we shall crumble
|
| Under the weight of our own
|
| And no shockwave shall follow
|
| But merely a spark of dying hope
|
| To kindle another flame
|
| Another one to shine up high
|
| And to wane
|
| Over and over again
|
| Paralyzed in blissful catatonia
|
| I submit myself to this cosmic fate
|
| Of constant fall from grace
|
| Endless leap of faith
|
| I refuse to know
|
| What cannot be known
|
| I reject wisdom of the earth
|
| Over and over again
|
| Only then I shall truly fly
|
| Only then I shall truly burn
|
| Wingless angel of the smokeless fire
|
| Forever concealed, forever close
|
| Host and parasite conjoined
|
| In the cord of universal spine
|
| Serpent coil, squirming in the trunk
|
| of the tree of life
|
| Deeper and deeper
|
| I’m falling. |
| I’m drowning
|
| And no one is coming
|
| And nobody knows
|
| I am the victim of
|
| The curse of constant fall
|
| Always deeper down
|
| The tunnel of no light
|
| We are but fallen stars
|
| Hopelessly trying to rekindle the flame
|
| Lost in the streams of the self
|
| Yet it shall not warm us up
|
| And reason shall not be found
|
| Peace, comfort, reconciliation
|
| Were never meant to come
|
| Come for us
|
| Like every star we shall crumble
|
| Under the weight of our own
|
| And no shockwave shall follow
|
| But merely a spark of dying hope
|
| To kindle another flame
|
| Another one to shine up high
|
| And to wane
|
| I am the victim of
|
| The curse of constant fall
|
| Always deeper down
|
| The tunnel of no light |