The die is cast and my memories flow along its contours

We must then take our mask and wear it to the end of time

For scraped much too young, we drew a mark in the sand

And what we did then shapes all the things that are to come

 

Now perhaps we see the error of folly in all our life decisions

Yet the die is immutably cast and the mould set for a lifetime

We but endure and strive onward for it is too late to turn back

For the world seemed sweeter when its harvest was not reaped