Chance doesnĄ¯t exist
|
But the path of life is not
|
totally so predestined and
|
time and chronology
|
show us how all should be
|
In the ways of existence
|
To find out why we are here
|
|
Being conscious is a torment
|
The more we learn is the less we get
|
|
No one surveys the whole, focus on things so small
|
But lifeĄ¯s objective is to make it meaningful
|
only searching for this
|
That which doesnĄ¯t exist
|
Although our ability
|
to relativize remains unclear
|
|
Being conscious is a torment
|
The more we learn is the less we get
|
Every answer contains a new quest
|
A quest to non existence, a journey with no end
|
|
scream:
|
IĄ¯m not afraid to die
|
IĄ¯m afraid to be alive without being aware of it
|
|
IĄ¯m so afraid to, I couldnĄ¯t stand to
|
Waste all my energy in things
|
that do not matter anymore
|
|
Our future has already been written by us alone
|
But we donĄ¯t grasp the meaning
|
Of our programmed course of life
|
We only fear what comes
|
and smell death every day.
|
|
Our future has already been wasted by us alone
|
And we just let it happen and do not worry at all
|
|
chorus x2:
|
Our future has already been written by us alone
|
But we donĄ¯t grasp the meaning
|
Of our programmed course of life
|
We only fear what comes
|
And smell death every day
|
Search for the answers that lie beyond
|
|
Being conscious is a torment
|
The more we learn is the less we get
|
Every answer contains a new quest
|
A quest to non existence, a journey with no end
|
|
-----------------
|
Sensorium
|
| Epica |
