🪬"Such fleeting perfection awakens the animals I feel that people want more, they want more Ink was never water Your dreams, in a distorted way And the mark stays with you; I don't know what I saw Except for memories and broken recollections (ooh-oh-ooh) Full-throated voices, echoes, daydreams This version of me—I don't even know where it came from In my head: ideas, yearnings Perfection can turn into a nightmare If you insist on erasing it, I can believe That the idea of ​​me still lives on with you"🪬