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I can see constellations birth and death.
I cannot love life. On any account.
But I envy her persistence,
although it has, like everything, beginning and end.

Watching it grow and distort.
(Born... And grow...)
Cycles of the same universe.
(Past... Far...)

A dawning twilight within another twilight.
An extended end, extended to the end.
Induced by the eternal return of time,
neither Alpha nor Omega, just transition.

Watching it grow and distort.
(Born... And grow...)
Cycles of the same universe.
(Past... Far...)

Repented of this useless futility,
lulled by a constant rebirth.
Another opportunity provided by providence.
Another opportunity to be wasted, for sure...

And your shine, your shine...
And your shine, shine...
On and on, and on...
On and on, on...

Breaking this particles of inert matter
to which we might call existence.
To regenerate each of these gaps
that can never be filled with hope...

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