feeling like these photo-scenes your world is black and in-between the paradox you call your life you stop to cry i picked up where they left off and held you 'til you were alive and now the room is mirror-tricks and dappled light and if you walk away - i won't understand you were like a work of art - that had its canvas torn apart and found itself an icon in its disarray i was just an afterthought who practised everything he taught but innocence can sometimes be an enemy every phase is something new with your eyes away from mine oh this isn't living proof it's only borrowed time i'm here waiting for you