Chained by the wheels of time, we fade,
charmed by the illusion of existence, we pray,
hoping that beyond our lives we stay.
Unleash your thoughts and leave your fears behind,
‘cause in the blink of an eye, we’re gone.

I try to figure out a way
to fly beyond myself, a way to stay;
something worth postponing the end,
something beyond the fear of pain and disgrace.

Sweet illusion,
childhood dream.
Always present,
hard to reach.
It’s a mirage
in the sand
a perfect image of our
imperfect kind.

Can you feel the silence?
It’s the silence before the storm.
Darkened horizon,
are there answers beyond?

We’re running out of time.

—

Jorge’s original words:
Chained by the wheels of time, we fade, charmed by the illusion of existence, we
pray, hoping that beyond our lives we stay.
Unleash your thoughts and leave your fears behind; ‘cause in the blink of an eye,
we’re gone.
I try to figure out a way to fly beyond myself, a way to stay and remain insane;
something to allure me to postpone the end, something beyond the fear of pain and
disgrace.
I keep searching in the wrong places, why is that no one sees that I’m mistaken?
I refuse to reach for what they say I should. All I wanted has come and gone, is it
worth to keep asking for more?
Can you feel the silence? It’s the silence before the storm, and as the horizon gets
dark, my mind is flooded by the answers that will make the havoc of the storm;
hopefully, its rage shall drive the boredom away.
Freedom is just an illusion, it’s a mirage in the sand. It makes everyone so eager to
reach it, but once you’re there, you find nothing but a mirror, a perfect image of our
imperfect kind.
All this time, the chains I’ve broken, the wings I’ve grown, have brought me here; it
feels like the final and hardest level of a twisted game against time.