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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