This be true, we are alone with who we are
Myself a memory, whats near is really far.
How is your life? Is it storm and pain?
A fire that is quenched, a hope made vain?
The years my fate in life are weaving
On every breath of morrow I am wreathing
This be true, future is only; only the past!
Through this gate we all are cast.
Heart and soul, seeds that winds have taken
Like dead dreams of days forsaken.
Into the the day surounding life as the sea
Out of nights shadow that covered me.
This be true, we all laugh; we all weep!
In our lives what we sow, so shall we reap.
Perceive today with the conception of tomorrow
The mural of ones life holds a multiform of sorrow.
This be true, love and passions mislead,
are branded as mere madness.
Between the idea and reality falls
The shadow of sadness.