We will never stand it,
The passing of time over grace and goodness,
Over everything truly worth living for.
We will never understand it,
How what was then, can’t be just now,
What once we pledged, we fail to vow.
So we appeal for reason,
When that’s only a treason.

We will never accept it,
But that’s a secret deal we sign,
For the sake of getting by.
It says if you lose memory,
Then you can repel mortality.
At least for a while.
So we lose our memory,
But never gain eternity.

How dare we stand it,
How dare we accept the deal ?
We should mourn every minute,
Every hour, every day,
Every past age,
Every century,
Every dead person,
From the dawn of humankind
To the post-modern society.

Life should be an endless mourning.
We love because of regret,
We expect because of loss,
And because of death, we live.

There must be some kind of justice in nostalgia.
Whereas melancholy, or any bad mood,
Cannot be trusted from an hour to the next.
Nostalgia is cruel, though rewarding in its way.
It’s just that we can’t get over it,
Unless we forget,
Unless we heal,
Unless we behave like this is the first time.

We shoud never stand it,
But we do, or die.