Horizons filled with promise Storms of hail and wind
In our bleak realities
A hopeful grip

Singed by burning fires
Not a sky but a prison of gray The memories are never far away
Metamorphosis. Symbiotic
We are but a symphony of frantics
Burdened by our own mistakes

The walls I build The truth, the hurt, the guilt
A helpless shell of my former self
Never too late to change your Self
Never too late to change your Self

The walls I build The truth, the hurt, the guilt
A helpless shell of my former self
Never too late to change your Self
Never too late to change your Self