My thoughts are slipping away, roaring wind around the house walls And my emotional state is an opaque, turbid pond Makes me wander through endless shallow fog
What your eyecolour was? I don’t remember anymore Life is like a construct of memories There are days when they're haunting me When they're haunting me
Appearing to me as fragrances, at lonely places, Or merely in the way how light breaks They overwhelm me, Like a giant wave full of sensations.
The image of a person becomes in the curse of time more and more obscure until it fades And memories provide nothing more than a fragile picture of what they used to be