Texty: Spock's Beard. Octane. Part 1 - The Ballet Of The Impact.

(I) Prelude To The Past
(II) The Ultimate Quiet
(III) A Blizzard Of My Memories

The windshield explodes
Like a bomb packed with diamonds
There's a deafening silence
Time flows to a crawl
As the ballet of the impact
Spreads out across the blacktop
Angels dancing down like raindrops
In the air as they fall

So this is how it goes
So this is how it ends
A flatbed runs a red light
No time to comprehend
As a blizzard of my memories
Lights up like fireflies
In the sliver of an instant
In a flash before my eyes...

...I remember this house. We live here until I'm five or six years old. I remember the clang of the milk box early in the morning and the all-white living room with the wood floor that gives us splinters when we slide around in our socks. It's Christmas Eve and I'm worrying about how Santa Claus will get in since we don't have a chimney. Mary, who is three years older, tells me that the grown-ups are lying to us and that there really is no Santa. I tell her that I don't believe her, but the seed's been planted and I need reassurance. I find my mother in the kitchen and start to ask her why daddy hasn't come home from work yet. Before I get more than a few words out, I see that she's been crying so I stop. I go outside and look up at the winter sky. It sure seems like there were a lot more stars then. I guess it's true, your life really does flash before your eyes...