Draw a mirror
Put it on the wall
In this place where I'll be gone
In a minute or two
The way you fold the new clothes
With your withered hands
I keep giving it back
To the weak, unknown, unkissed, and lost
A past life of screaming
Who's the one to draw the line?
Is it mine?
And the fate of your life flashes by
In a minute or two
The way you unfold your hands
At the sight of a cross
I keep taking it back
From the weak, unknown, but what's the cost?