I escaped through the backdoor of the world, and I saw things getting smaller. Fear as well as temptation, now everything is reflection. As I make my way through this labyrinth, and my sense of direction is lost like the sound of my steps. Scent of dried flowers, and you're walking through the fog, walking through the fog. I see my memories in black and white, they are neglected by space and time. I stored all my days in boxes, I left my wishes so far behind. I find my only salvation is playing hide and seek in this labyrinth, and my sense of connection is lost like the sound of my steps. Scent of dried flowers, and you're walking through the fog, walking through the fog. Scent of dried flowers, and you're walking through the fog, walking through the fog. Scent of dried flowers, and you're walking through the fog, walking through the fog.