Why do we lose that incandescent fuse?
We have it in our youth, before we pay our dues
Try to be unborn, a perfect, shapeless form
Drifting in your dream, beneath the human game
No shame, no time, no place to be
Just a little flame

Be not just a tomb for dead regret and blame
But make your mind a womb to house the little flame
And when you feel it grow, you will know
Yourself again