Lyrics
All these fucking songs, their meaning becoming blurred
All these songs are losing their intended significance,
Nothing more than exit wounds of every misfired word
They only represent the lasting wounds caused by spoken words gone awry,
Pressing pen to paper, disguising facts as fiction
Writing with a pen, blending reality with fiction,
If only the tactility could touch me back from extinction
If only the act of writing could bring back a sense of connection and rescue me from disappearing completely,
Memories are vehicles
Memories serve as conveyors of pain,
For sorrow
Especially for sadness and grief,
That's why we must dream about
Hence, it is necessary to envision and hope for a better future,
Tomorrow
Crunching underfoot, like short, harmful words
Crushed underfoot, resembling harmful, brief utterances,
This wasn't snow, these were skeletons of birds
The ground isn't covered in snow but rather the remnants of birds,
And I felt them, they were trying to move
I sensed their presence, attempting to stir,
As if not having flesh gave them something to prove
As if lacking physical form gave them something to strive for,
Memories are vehicles
Memories are vehicles for carrying pain,
For sorrow
Especially for sadness and grief,
That's why we must dream about
Therefore, it's essential to maintain hope for a better future,
Tomorrow
Crushed bones, like sand in the hourglass
Bones crushed like sand in an hourglass,
Pulverized time, white grass
Time pulverized, depicted as white grass,
And they all raised their beaks towards the blackened sky
The birds collectively raised their beaks towards the darkened sky,
The world covered in dead birds trying to fly
The world covered in deceased birds attempting flight,
Memories are vehicles
Memories serve as conveyors of pain,
For sorrow
Especially for sadness and grief,
That's why we must dream about
Hence, it is necessary to envision and hope for a better future,
Tomorrow
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