Dust of the Stars
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Dust covers all, snow all the time
Hours and minutes are withering fast
Bright colours all day, petals fragile
Are breaking down in the hand of the past
One breath ago we were laughing and young
Now we are counting the winters we've had
How many songs there are still to be sung?
How many bright days are we left to get?
Order of life we cannot change
All what is left for us is to observe
Its mortal dance, elusive and strange
With all its whirls, pirouettes and sharp curves
Dust we breathe in of moss, flowers and trees
Reading their stories, their signs and their scars
Dust we become when our time is deceased
Who said we are but the dust of the stars?
Dust covers all, snow all the time
Hours and minutes are withering fast
Bright colours all day, petals fragile
Are breaking down in the hand of the past
Dust we breathe in of moss, flowers and trees
Reading their stories, their signs and their scars
Dust we become when our time is deceased
Who said we are but the dust of the stars?
Who said we are but the dust of the stars?
Who said we are but the dust of the stars?