Lyric

Why do the sharp edges surrender so easily to the deep?

Is it a slow retreat, or a quiet escape into the amber glow?

Did the crystal promise to hold the sting before the thaw?

Can you hear the microscopic fracture of the silence?

Was the drift always this inevitable under the heavy air?

Is the moisture on the transparent shell a thief of shape?

How many minutes are contained in a single, vanishing sliver?

Why does the weight feel lighter as the solid turns to ghost?

Is the friction of time enough to wash the surface clean?

Are we watching the end of a landscape?

Wait

Is the silence absorbing the flavor of the past?

A slow tide on a miniature shore

Woven layers of mineral and shadow

Was the foundation always this soluble, this fleeting?

Tracing the ghost of a cold sting

Weightless

Ink-stained echoes

Does the residue remain after the form has surrendered?

Are the fibers of the wood drinking the memory of the cold?

Is the void left behind more permanent than the crystal itself?

Why do we stare at the place where the structure used to be?

Is the record of the thaw finally reaching its limit?

A slow tide on a miniature shore

Woven layers of mineral and shadow

Was the foundation always this soluble, this fleeting?

Tracing the ghost of a cold sting

Weightless

Ink-stained echoes

Does the residue remain after the form has surrendered?

Just the moisture

Just the wood

Is there any sting left in the water?