Friend, are you alright? It's been awhile since your flight To where, nobody knows We've all been wondering where you chose To lay, lay down and die I am awaiting your reply When all your plans go to dust in your hands And the face you wear erodes Keep your friends close Friend, remember me? I am a distant memory of when you didn't hide Do you remember how you tried to live at any cost? Is that a quality you've lost? When all your plans go to dust in your hands And the face you wear erodes Keep your friends close Friend, friend from afar If you've forgotten who you are Then friend, you can be sure I've not forgotten who you were When all your plans go to dust in your hands And the face you wear erodes When all your plans go to dust in your hands And the face you wear, it erodes Keep your friends close

In my early education, I was taught that every thoughtless act will linger And the truest explanations are the hardest pills to swallow for a thinker As the years progressed, I dressed in every lesson they instilled And I found that most were tailored to the teacher's unique build So I kept the ones that suited me, the others I threw out And what used to be ill-fitting then fits me comfortably now In my days of exploration, how I stumbled over every new discovery Ever straying from expectations, feeling nonetheless the weight of them above me Oh how we love to make a burden of what by right should be a gift When there rarely comes a weight we are so weak we cannot lift So I welcomed exploration and eventually I found That what used to be a burden then is a comfort to me now At the height of my ambition, I was scared to death of everything I wanted But had my dreams come to fruition, I might never have had the fortune to be haunted By the ghost who knows me better than I've ever known myself And who kept me on the road toward a more precious sort of wealth If the concept of submission to a providential route Made me feel powerless and anxious then, I take comfort in it now In the final futile fistful of the finest fleeting flesh In the wallowings of the wistful with their eyes watching the west When the sum of your existence meets the product of your death And you calculate the difference, how much room for living's left? Well, I used to contemplate these things and become so tightly wound But what used to set me worrying is a comfort to me now Well, I used to see my future in the form of the darkest clouds But the thunder and the heavy rains are a comfort to me now