Script That coils 'round my arms Prayers of a long lost priest Descriptions of a world beyond 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 am 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've 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