Something that was ones born, is now dead again
Ashes is the only ting that's left of it now
Start to peal it of, layer after layer

Under it all it still will be there
Not the thing, all things turns into ashes in due time
Under all the layers you will find the dream, the ideal, the heart

Those cant be burned down
Those will just fall and rest

Rest until you or someone else will have the courage to pick them up again
Until someone, will be open to followed them, follow them all