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Passing lights and passing lives.
I am everything but secure.
With the feet of a traveler,
I won’t stay long here anyway.

A giant black snail shell with oppressive weight
I’ve been carrying on my shoulders far too long.
A new age to come.
I feel the pale sun caressing my dark eyes.
But still the icy haze embraces me.
Sepulchral cold, along these serpentine roads.
I wished there was something I could call home.
Swallowing illusions as big as airplanes.
In the endless search for comfort,
there is nothing but conformity.

What if the only way to become finally free is to abandon our own existence?
Will I have lived if I die tonight?
Is the only real friend sitting at my side called "uncertainty", wishing me farewell?
Should I delete those three words and will I still be safe tonight?

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