And it might be that my eyes are playing a trick on me
but the sky looks somewhat like a fading crimson red
And it might be that I am getting older and wiser
but I seem to be losing my voice, allowing only thoughts
And it might be that my body is weaker and tired
but it is resting in a thorny road, it’s resting
And it might be that I, myself, am in a subliminal stage of mind
but I am numb to anything else but your soul.