The ink is already dry, and your heartbeat I have predestined to misfortune.
Winter winds fall to summer sunlight, and the metronome hums a familiar melody;
still, your thoughts betray you, and your heart conflicts with time.
I cursed you, and now you must live through time and time again.
The Earth turns, but your stars stay affixed in time.
The colors of the sky turn to ash, and chains ensnare your freedom once more.
Nothing could be done.
I grab at the dust and reach out my hand:
Oh, how I have forsaken you.