Halfway up the glass does the water reach not so low,
but protruding from the vase of life, flowers do not grow.
Withered petals and sagging stems replace the living air,
colours fade, death must obey, not alive to even care.
But if i drop into the vase a magic thought from me,
I can dream and think and see, the beauty that used to be.

I got caught in the stream.
The river that wont run dry.
From sunlight to moonbeam,
a constant cycle until we die.

No dodging,  no evasion, no escape.
The river will run with me.
From the source seed to deaths mouth,
it carries life into the dead sea.

But the sea never fills.
Some souls fly to heaven whilst the rest drown.
And as the souls congregate at the gates,
they'll step through to fall back down,
and do it all over again.

I'll sink to the bottom of the ocean,
to the dust and sands that litter its depths.
And i'll sink my fingers deep into your innocence,
and fall ever so delicately through to you...

As i look up i wonder,
As i look down i ponder,
As i look backwards i'm learning,
As i look forwards i'm yearning.