The yearn for self-fulfillment is really just a void that death fills
I don’t believe in god but I drink spirits
There’s a pulling feeling in the air
It tells a story beyond our own despair
True existence projected in the sun
Reflected on the moon
Spilled upon the mountains
Caressed by fog and morning dew
I float and hover
Beneath me is no one
Above me is everything
I am the ghost of gloom and doom
Yet to me, this is beautiful.