How much of you will stay?
How much of you will flow away with the current?
As the days become recycled, as our time becomes more precious.
It's more apparent that even though I've grown fully rooted,
but I'm not fully realized.
I watch my youth race against the wind; open arms.
Reaching for those who have yet to find their place.
The seasons encircle me. One by one,
I trace what's brought me here.
It's night like these that I grip my choices by the throat.
I lay them out for a moment and understand that some ties are meant to be severed.
I have brought myself to this peak,
on it I proclaim that I still have a fighting spirit.
I hold onto these everlasting eyes and see it through till the end.
A vision granted by love, a dreamer too stubborn to heel over and die. Oh grave ones, oh grave ones, your crowns are meaningless.