Of all the streets that blur into the dusk,
There's one, I know, I've walked my final trust.
A path I tread without a thought or fear,
The pawn of fate, who draws the lines so clear.

If there's a limit to all things we hold dear,
A final time, and then we disappear,
Who will tell us when we've said goodbye?
To the faces we'll never see, and the reasons why.

Through the dawning window, night retreats,
Among the books where shadows meet.
There's one I'll never read again,
Its pages closed, like a forgotten friend.

If there's a limit to all things we hold dear,
A final time, and then we disappear,
Who will tell us when we've said goodbye?
To the faces we'll never see, and the reasons why.

There's a door that's closed forevermore,
A mirror waits, but you'll walk no more.
Crossroads open wide before your eyes,
Yet Janus watches with a thousand sighs.

In the South, a gate is worn and barred,
No more entry, no more scars.
A memory lost, beyond recall,
A fountain dry, no moon to fall.

If there's a limit to all things we hold dear,
A final time, and then we disappear,
Who will tell us when we've said goodbye?
To the faces we'll never see, and the reasons why.

The Rhone and lake flow steadily on,
Vast yesterdays, now all gone.
Lost like Carthage, in fire and salt,
Space, time, and Borges halt.
At dawn, the crowds begin to fade,
All I've loved, all I've betrayed.
Space, time, and Borges leave me now,
To the endless night, I bow.