in the early hours of dawn
everything is pure,
every day starts anew,
every person is born again,
everyone gets a clean slate
and the sins of our past
are all washed away.
i wish i could hold this moment,
make the sunrise last forever,
so that we never have to face
the pain again.
in the early hours of dawn
everything is pure,
everyone gets a clean slate
and the sins of our past
are all washed away.

i'm endlessly falling in love
with ideas and concepts,
so wonderfully impossible,
so delicately crafted
inside my mind.
i fall in love with strangers
who walk by,
with lonely phantoms
in the subway,
with shadows
in the streetlights,
with nonexistent stories,
with lives that aren't mine;
with every single thing
that i can't have,
because if i can't have it,
it won't hurt me,
and that's what really matters
down the line.
i'm endlessly falling in love
with dreams and delusions,
so perfectly impossible,
a collection
of parallel universes
inside my head;
and as long as it's not real
it should keep me safe
from falling apart,
as long as it's not real
it can't break my heart.

your laughter's still alive on tape,
your room's a shrine,
our home - a prison.
i keep on planning my escape,
but when i do, it feels like treason.
dust settles down inside my lungs,
can't bring myself to change a thing.
it always takes me by surprise
when i come back and you're not here.
your footsteps linger in the halls,
your touch is felt through every surface.
your life is spread across the walls,
your shadow waits behind the curtains.
your voice is still alive on tape,
your room's a shrine,
our home - a prison.
i keep on planning my escape,
but when i do, it feels like treason.

i don't want to be loud,
so instead
i dig another hole
inside myself
and bury everything.
every tear,
every word unsaid,
every mistake,
every departure
and every arrival,
every belated goodbye,
every unwrapped present,
every argument
and every silent gaze,
every smile,
every embrace,
every warm touch,
every cold night.
i bury it all
as deep as i can,
out of sight,
and then i move on.
my body is not a temple,
but a haunted graveyard,
where bitterness grows,
where regrets bloom
in the dark.

i'm sorry if my love is such a burden,
i'm sorry if it's such a waste of time.
i'm sorry if my mind,
can't work the way you want it,
i'm sorry that i didn't learn to lie.
i'm sorry you were never truly mine,
i'm sorry that my heart
can't work the way you want it.
i'm sorry it was such a waste of time,
i'm sorry that my love was such a burden.

i'm afraid i'll forget.
if i don't remind myself
who i am,
if i don't talk to people,
if i don't say my name,
i'm afraid i'll forget it.
i'm afraid i'll end up empty,
unknown,
lost in the ocean of faces
that i don't remember.
if i don't hear my name,
if i don't write it down
for a million times,
in a thousand of different ways,
i'm afraid i'll forget
who i am,
i'm afraid i'll end up all alone.

your gods are weak,
your gods are silent,
your gods don't speak to you
when all you need
is someone to confide in.
your gods are wrong,
your gods are violent,
your gods ignite the fire of war
and never tell you what to do
with all this rage inside your bones;
the fire seems so very holy
unless it's you they choose to burn.
your gods pretend,
your gods play games,
your gods don't walk around
among this land
of misery and death.
your gods know best,
your gods keep quiet,
your gods don't speak to you
when all you need
is someone to confide in.
and when you're on your own,
when all the hope is lost,
do they look down at you,
your everloving gods?