{Instrumental until 4:44}
Spoken:
Endless names and faces alone together unconscious in this frozen flame of all we know. Sleep well and see the same streams and hills, snow canyons of a new home, stones untouched, fingers blushed with flowers yet to be named.
We clamber for life, silent in our ardour, take no guide save our karma, with no time save our afters and no path and no armour... but that we cannot stand still and wait. We must stand un-still, and search.
We must use our hate, and hope that it's never too late. The odd's never too great. This is how we became the fish that takes the bait. By listening to un-truths. By making ourselves un-guided.
And what does that make me?
(What does that make me?)
Another. f**ing. Hook.
***
Are you still there?
[Ghost: I'm here.]