There's symmetry in the way you cut me straight in two.
Each side reflects, the image of a crowd in an empty room.
Your're a match that can't be lit, spark a flame, burn infinite.
You broke me like a mirror, seven years keep adding up.
Walk barefoot through the glass not a single cut.
Direction: I'm walking on fences. It left me defenseless.
Balance: I'm losing, and the ground beneath does not exist