Hear the clash of faded gold Against the celluloid
The night you met your younger self, She said she'd rather you be dead
Why wouldn't you come back to this moment Now that you're older still and still living apparent
It is no though experiment To talk into the past Like a wishing well Wherein your reflection drowned
Gather please the spices and powders Cast them upon stone and sea For their surface to be still and maybe
Maybe our own lives will know no storm nor fury
Still as a photograph