I found that my point in life, is to have an effect, On many minds, and this fucking wreck. But sometimes not, or so I thought, Is it possible for me to surpass my mind? To leave all reality and my memories behind. In my life I have fears, the fear of being alone, or being alone in fear. Life to me is a rhythm, and death will be it's rhyme. Within me, an endless orchestra peaks at the end of time. I found that I look at this crash in a deeper depth, What I did not find, I can not except. Individually I'm beautiful, as I distinguish myself. Featuring entities to this musical, I am an instrument, Cased on a shelf. Is it possible for you to have my obituary state? That I was the saddest song ever written, according to fate. In my life everythings a pattern, melodies collide, Memories are left behind, and soon being afraid of loneliness, Won't matter. I found that my wrecking recurrence reached its peak, Produced a result and proved true those possibilities. Ended this rhyming, in perfect timing and concluded this musical catastrophy.