There is a river that everyone wants to cross.
And everyone wants to be on the other side,
believing that it's there that everything lies.

And some wish to cross it, because
they are running towards something,
while others wish to cross it, because
they are running away from something.

But in the end, it is we who need to build
the bridge, and not wait for someone else
to do it for us.

They classify
Me as
A saint
Not a sinner
I'm both
I'm both dead
Living,
I'm heavenly
With a realm
Of a sinnish
Hellish
Center

Sing to me
a little lullaby.
I just need your voice
and then I’ll be able to sleep.
Hold me close,
and just before I drift away,
I’ll ask that you never let go.

A weary soul, stained silver with tears,
weighs more than the body it inhabits,
for this host is too tired to eat, too tired
to sleep, unless the nap can last forever.