Something personal
From a shell at the world's end
Where colors roar
And the children of the storm dance

Rainbows flow through the sky
Where is the little shell?
It was shaped from memories
From the feelings of dreams

Something innate
To be untainted
Because all seek meaning and joy
Shy and malicious

Now birds draw near
They flew here from the world's end
Their wings turn to shadows
From shadows memories arise

And so all turns dark
Where people sought their shell
Only wasteland remains
Lost in countless books
Written from the remnants of dreams

A world has come to its end