It's the time after the storm so er' hard, and I can't say the peace is all too bad... But still, there's something missing, something short. But still, there's something missing, my worn heart. I'm living a life half awake, conscious. I'm living a life where I'm not right there. It's like I'm underwater, under sap, everything is moving so slow and still. This life that I'm living feels dry yet calm, I can't really complain, only just yawn.

This life has gotten dry, without a spark, this life is flameless where it was alight. And yet I can't complain, yet going on. And yet I can't complain, you weren't wrong. Every one of my fears that I've moved on, In the dead of night, in sleeps slow swan song, I realized I haven't moved on at all, these fears I've left behind, to which I'm thrawled.

I need to move on, and waking I have. I need to move on but my heart is bad. It's unable to forget foolish fears, It's unable to look forwards from here. This place fixed in space, this place fixed in time, this place fixed in fears, move on heart of mine. This place of longing, this boring slow song, this life I lived, and the thought that I'm wrong... It's hard to move on from, but I need to. So my waking self it has, my heart not.

But these memories with you I will not.

This boring life so bland and without spice, it lets me heal from the terrors at night.

I'm moving on, not forgetting, I must.