Any sigh is a womb
Releasing to the room of senses
Result of plans are ours
Our actions girt in what will be
One time seems a bunch
But we don't see in front of us
When you do anything
Everything's coming to you
When you see a changeling
He's nothing but his appearance sum
Touch knows who's speaking
They're walls and doors
And naughts upholds it all

What never ends lost it all
It echos and re-throws
the bornless win it all
They echos tomorrows sounds
And all is turned around