Past lives spinning by
Too many lost worlds
Days forgotten, though maybe not quite
Now just hazy outlines of memories
That dont seem like they really belong here.
A tightrope walk between past and present
All over again
New worlds, new lives
one at a time
Coming, going, coming, going
The same old things
but every time, surprising with a shining newness
never failing to electrify
Rising, dying, rising, dying
To die again maybe
But its bright, like every rising.
Bright, but in a different colour.
There's nothing called perfect,
Nothing called forever
Nothing called never
Just a long, long road
with something new at every turn
And my head spins faster and faster
I feel that strange tingling again
The spark through my nerves
The shocking thrill
But I think I know...