There is glass between our touch, 
phantom limbs of former love...
and the truth is that I am so terrified 

That the callous is deeper 
than the surface of our skin. 
And it takes us twice as long, 
it takes us twice as long to heal. 

We'll lift up the ground to see 
the system of roots beneath. 
Gears turn, endlessly, 
to bring the world back to life 
like clockwork, when it dies. 

the click of its moving parts 
grows louder and louder 
from this restless earth... 

Future gardens wait patiently below 
and somehow we smell them blossom 
through the snow. 

Still unsatisfied, 
we chase what we're denied. 
As generations wait, 
we can't resist the taste of possibility. 
Gears turn, endlessly, 
to bring us back to life again. 
Like clockwork, we begin.