In a treetop, I land hoping soon return to the open hand, the home that melts my chocolate dreams, with the sweet... Sweetness of being transparent, but nobody saw me; somehow, the audience was sorry. They also wanted to be noticed, 'cause they had never been loved. How can we find each other if you can't find me in this fog? In this foggy theatre, time crossed the fate that wonders how can I touch you if I can't love me? The theatre is closed as I forget who I am, where I was, what did I do to become me 'cause this 'me' is you, the freedom to be 'me'. Now, the theatre is open as I remember who I am, where I was, what did I do to become me 'cause this 'me' is dreaming, feeling, eternity as love.
The theatre of life is what we remember who I am, where I was, and what I did to become me. All those memories will endure probably through this life, and then I will be free of them after I die. Will I? Will I not? Matter it does not… If in love I live. If love I am.