Fading like fireflies, rushing past our destiny, we lose...

Birth is beautiful, it is bloodshed and membranes spilled out on the floor... Do you see beauty in process and creation, or does blood...

In dreams I fly free. My butterfly dance wakens, I...

Anarchy: the moth emerging from its cocoon saying, "This is me."

You live on in me, no matter where I might go, I will pass you on