When I looked into the glassnI didnt seenAny sort of predictionnThrown back at mennIs fate just an abstract fromnWhich we predictnNot a destiny in whichnChanges are strictnI don't know which way you thinknOur lives are goingnSlipping through a ceaseless streamnEndlessly flowingnnWhat happened between us thennMade us so coldnSitting here and witheringnJust growing oldnEvery breath we inhale nAdds to the tastenOf the life we managed tonCompletely wastennArson was the key to makenEverything rightnSeeing them all burn was a nBeautiful sightnSetting fire to anythingnThat I could findnNever knowing that I could gonBack into time