jaba daba duuuuuuuuu

Now everything is reflection as I make my way through this labyrinth
and my sense of direction
is lost like the sound of my steps
is lost like the sound of my steps.
Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog
walking through the fog
Scent of dried flowers and I'm walking through the fog
walking through the fog
I see my memories in black and white
they are neglected by space and time
I store all my days in boxes
and left my whishes so far behind
I find my only salvation in playing hide and seek in this labyrinth
and my sense of connection
is lost like the sound of my steps
is lost like the sound of my steps.