It was never a war
Neither was it a game
I don’t know what’s on my mind
And I don’t know who to blame

But the world’s foretold
And it’s to break
It flows through my fingers
In its stubborn nake

The sun closes dusk
Your eyes show the colour
Of fading light reflections
And the beauty of the old world

I’m breaking into weakness
Listening to Before the Worst
Unable to move or grip
A thrombosis burst