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Poor Old You

de Personal Best

Our fantasy, a story-book that never ends
The greatest gift but we can't hold in our hands
The gate to mystical dimensions and to things that live in dreams
Gives us the chance to leave our path and that much further than it seems
There's more behind than we imagine a secret realm of space and time
It is beginning without end until the day we die
What is inside a dead man and his restless mind
A genius state, just dead life suffering from time?
Into oblivion he drowns a lurking flame inside still glows
The physical death means no end existence are we allowed to give new life
An endless dancing on a thin edge until the day we die
Technical development gives no-one the right to act godsent
Moral's lost all of its meaning where is the end

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