Where did it all begin? The days I lived and breathed the sound. Handwritten scores and friends who understood. Laughing through the clumsy mistakes we made. On those days, I was surely there. - Time moved on, a clever mirror born behind the screen. Creation became easy and fast. But is this truly something I have made? - I’ve lost the sense of "What am I?" This voice, it isn't me. This song, it isn't me. Just a Ship of Theseus now. So tell me, where does myself reside? Is this wandering ship destined only to sink? - The boy who once scribbled notes on paper, Now only calls out to the mirror. Digital scores on a cold, lifeless board. Days spent just watching the output flow. Am I still standing here? - Time moved on, a clever mirror born behind the screen. Creation became easy and fast. But is this truly something I have made? - I’ve lost the sense of "What am I?" This voice, it isn't me. This song, it isn't me. Just a Ship of Theseus now. So tell me, where does myself reside? Is this wandering ship destined only to sink? - I’ve lost the sense of "What am I?" This voice, it isn't me. This song, it isn't me. Just a Ship of Theseus now. So tell me, where does myself reside? Is this wandering ship destined only to sink? - Even if the voice, the song... they are no longer me. Can I still say these emotions belong to me? On the uncertain waves of feeling, The Ship of Theseus sails on today.
