People fade,

Mostly because they're just waste
And full of envy and hate.

If you dream but carry doubt
Chances are it won't work out

All along
I’ve been looking through
The stained, the pure
The meaning of clear

With a surreal light
Which bends the prism
And frees me from physical
Prison cell

And all along I’ve been looking through
The edge of iron and steel
The wood, the window
The highest ideal

Don’t hate

that which you

are

but instead,

love that

which you can

be