Texty: Canopy. Serene Catharsis. Last Point Of Reference.

Why do I read, read between the lines
Create the ideal
Interpret
What's not there

Time has passed, no sights have changed
Misplaced pattern, rearrange

The light, the end
Mirage past, the moment is gone
I slip, fear grips
I fall back

Time has past, no skies have changed
Misplaced patterns, rearrange
Will this be
My last point of reference
Go black
My will
Put to rest
In darkness descend

With a loss of control
The next step is clear
Suppressing what used to me
I turn away