They painted a picture and colored it all black
It reminds me of memories coming back
relying on someone to break the fall 
at the end of it all
These lines are crawling

what exists - what is real
might be a trace - the way i feel

reflecting yourself in a mirror of ice
reflecting mirror

can not move - hardly breathe
a sticky web - right overhead

Your life will change some day
to this self portrait

what exists - what is real
might be a trace - the way i feel

while some else is throwing dice
can not move - still unseen

Existing, not living
Its fortune seems to be all mine
There might be a trace of the way that i feel
but they are still unseen
Everywhere i see
this changes of your life