Script that coils ‘round my arms Prayers of a long lost priest Descriptions of a world beyond The promises they can’t keep I hold my torch up high In search of the key to the lock Yet I always forget one truth I'm not one with this flock Standing on the precipice of death You question: Why am I here? The echoes of our deep November resounding and clear You were never the key, though I hear faint echoes of your knock Our paths no longer cross, and I will never be your lock Brace We never held the same beliefs Despite our lucid hopes we live the life beneath What sense is there to grip the memories of a life that’s lost? Perhaps one day we’ll find each other’s gaze In the frost