I
A breath of air, so swift and light,
Slips through the lungs like whispers in the night.
A swallow of water, cool and deep,
Sustains the soul, yet lies asleep.
A lover’s kiss on lips that quake,
The warmth that fades where passions break.

Chorus
Death is the pause, the silent lyre,
Where motion yields and flames expire.
The heart forgets its beating art,
The soul’s bright fire turns cold and dark.

II
What sets life apart from death’s cold grip?
Nothing but will—a spark, a whip!
Defiant flame in endless night,
A pulse that fights the void with might.
The stubborn root that cracks the stone,
The dream that wakes and claims its own.

Chorus
Death is the pause, the silent lyre,
Where motion yields and flames expire.
The heart forgets its beating art,
The soul’s bright fire turns cold and dark.

III
Life is the surge, the restless sea,
The hunger’s reaching wild and free.
To weave our breath, our water, love,
Into the now, and rise above.

Chorus
Death is the pause, the silent lyre,
Where motion yields and flames expire.
The heart forgets its beating art,
The soul’s bright fire turns cold and dark.