Blake You won't see me slide on by.
You won't flash fix my eyes, theres too much mist at the crucial moment.
I'll be running, and its too late.
You'll be dreaming, but its too late.

And I can't turn back, becuase theres no such thing as direction.

I won't see you tearing through.
I'll be caught up in my world too, there too much mistique at the crucial moment.
You'll be laughing, but its too late,
I'll be burning, and its too late.

But you can't turn back, since you've moved to the next section.

They won't see us turning up.
They can't stop us, but we'll be too much missed at the crucial moment.
We'll be screaming that its too late.
They'll be grinning while its too late.

And we can't turn back into our reflections.
what's it to you?
who go