life is a dance,
through falling leaves,
in a burning ball room
that only the luckiest survive,
even if only by chance

and only the most graceful
can survive the obstacles
and avoid the fall

the lovers of water
they take the blame
and every puddle looks like
a good place to go down
as if you could drown
in an inch of stagnant water

and now we're sinking down
falling into the earth
holding on and letting go
peace was never found
but we can still here the violin
play the melody of our lives

but I open my eyes
and the room is cold
no you, no flame,
no dancing, or music
and no one but me to blame.