Unstable, unstable. Perhaps a little unstable in the eyes of bystanders.
Unstable, unstable. You search for the constellations within her deep dark eyes.
Unstable, unstable. You find a way to fight, again and again, and you get up.

No, perhaps the world was never meant to understand the depth of your sorrow and suffering. Of course, your expectations were naught but folly!
No, they never wanted to hear your cries for assistance when they are all busy living their lives in fantasy. Of course, your heart was never their priority!

For the key to life is wrought in the mere concept of pain. The best teacher, and the most effective; the one thing you would run away from, and yet should embrace.
For the key to life is written in between the lines. The words non-existent, and the meanings a shade; the one thing that one should know, and yet nobody does.

Of what value is the wind on a clear summer’s night? Of what value is the sound of the sea, crashing against the wind?
Of what value is the beauty of a magical moment in time? Of what value is the beating of your heart, sped up as if by magic?

Yes, you knew the moments would never last. Yes, the nights will end and the days fade away.
Yes, you knew the mountains would give way. Yes, nothing is impossible if you just give it time.

Unstable, unstable. Perhaps a little unstable, but they were wrong.
Unstable, unstable. The constellations were always there within her deep dark eyes.
Unstable, unstable. They’ll try to beat you, again and again, but you’ll never lose.

We’ll see.