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Description
I don't think it even mattered anymore. Time whether now or never, 11, 12, 1, 2, 3, 4, haha maybe even 5. Sleep, I fear, reminds only the foolish that the wind will always blow. Sometimes I forget the three of swords are close at hand. Sometimes I wonder, why don't I end the climb now? It is after all, the same outcome if the foundation crumbles. Let go, let go, let go. So simple, why don't we plan the fall before it catches us? We always look up hoping to reach higher. Wait, we look up only to be reminded of how high the climb is. Wait, we look down only to realize how far we'll fall if we make a mistake. I fear, there is no leaf that the merciless breeze does not touch. A thousand words meant nothing to brick walls and unfed hopes. I fear, there is only to let go. I fear, there is only to sleep. Maybe, just maybe, there is the peace that is searched for. Wake me up, wake me up, is it possible when all that you dream of is sleep; Of cliffs, of steel, of the flowing river? Does it matter anymore; does the blue still wait to feel the warmth. Does the fool seek the sun, or is it just the hanged man looking at the past?

Description
I don't think it even mattered anymore. Time whether now or never, 11, 12, 1, 2, 3, 4, haha maybe even 5. Sleep, I fear, reminds only the foolish that the wind will always blow. Sometimes I forget the three of swords are close at hand. Sometimes I wonder, why don't I end the climb now? It is after all, the same outcome if the foundation crumbles. Let go, let go, let go. So simple, why don't we plan the fall before it catches us? We always look up hoping to reach higher. Wait, we look up only to be reminded of how high the climb is. Wait, we look down only to realize how far we'll fall if we make a mistake. I fear, there is no leaf that the merciless breeze does not touch. A thousand words meant nothing to brick walls and unfed hopes. I fear, there is only to let go. I fear, there is only to sleep. Maybe, just maybe, there is the peace that is searched for. Wake me up, wake me up, is it possible when all that you dream of is sleep; Of cliffs, of steel, of the flowing river? Does it matter anymore; does the blue still wait to feel the warmth. Does the fool seek the sun, or is it just the hanged man looking at the past?