Existinct
Existinct
A tumultuous Universe, where The beginning Mirrors The end
Have no clue about either, yet we pretend
The flames are metaphorical for humane thoughts that we fend
So the world gets colder as you descend
Now my ship of theseus is in bits in pieces
As I risk my beliefs to fall in love with a heathen
our shells are mortal but time is a portal
if I'm a ghost of my past, am I still me then?