I hadn't slept in a long time. When I did, my dreams were nightmares.
In a nightmare, every choice you make, is a wrong one.
I would wake up at night, afraid that day was a dream I'd forget.
The Illusion comes afterwards, when you ask 'Why me?' and 'What if?'
When you look back, see the branches, like a pruned bonsai tree, or a forked lightening.
If you had done something differently, it wouldn't be you.
It would be someone else looking back, asking a different set of questions.
When you looking down the barrel of a gun time slows down, your whole life flashes by, heartbreak and scars.
It's a losing game, without passion, you're already dead.
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I'll make it anywhere
It's up to you
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