Here's the grand illusion...

I was the evasive shadow

But we have only just begun.

Tell me, isn't that strange?

Every day feeds this moral decay
In the strange game of life.
Now we can feel the winter.

Solitude's upon my skin
Waiting for the rain you're bringing.

Communication's broken, phantoms are far away.
Now the leaves are turning red
In a time of hope and desperation.

So I wither
Out the dark into the fire below.