She's no longer with them. She came to us, she had questions. She's no longer, she met her end. So many paths followed yet only one to this plane, way beyond the dense fog of sighs. She came, as you would expect from a moth to the flame, but she rekindled what light we had lost.
A glimmer in the smile, like she knew where she'd fallen to.
I told you, always brush the wall, so you never fail to see all of the maze.
And now an impossible line between us. When so many times I used it to know where to go, how do you unwind to where you'll never be?
Follow that thread, a single hair, so thin, curly like those of my sisters, follow the impossible.
My nail scratch and break, their faces extinct under my unapologetic hands. Gouge your sight, maybe you'll see my plight.
A single thread, and maybe no baby's head to smell.