My current life is in rewind mode.
I’m looking for answers. I’m looking for codes.
Calmness for me is like a ghost.
I’m looking for answers. They are foremost.

There’s no need for sorrow, no need for cry.
It counts for nothing. It's all a lie.
I need to find the very twist.
But time doesn’t slow down at least.

I’m going backwards. My memory’s tricky.
It keeps all in mind. It is so sticky.
I rake up all: how loved, how fought,
How I forgave, and how I sought.

I spilled into ash, but I got up.
I saved myself, but others closed up.
I’m digging, throwing, looking for answers.
It beats me whole. It’s like a cancer.

What if that's all a fiction, a wrong?
Like the Atlantis, sunk too long.
A legend, which is almost forgotten.
And me, who wasn’t loved as a rotten.

And now I’m going back again,
Ridiculous, clumsy, unhelpful, mundane.  
My world relocated a long time ago.
It’s an emptiness warehouse, a storage of Echo.

Tobacco smoke
Old leather and wood
Cannabis leaves and fir trees
Forest dirt and communion wine
Wearing the perfume
Of this past of mine

If I should vanish, will you know?
Will echoes trace where I have been?
Or will the years, like melting snow,
erase the shape of what was seen?

A name dissolves upon the tongue,
a photograph turns pale with dust.
Once voices sang where silence hums,
once love was more than scattered rust.

The walls forget, the sky moves on,
the earth still spins without my name.
And though I whisper, hold me close,
I fear you’ll never do the same.