We make them always, all the time,
and out of every thing.
We make them out of friends and facts,
and out of songs we sing.
Locked inside the cells within,
they’re with us all the time.
Shaping and defining us,
both awful and sublime.
They can’t be killed or stolen,
but most are changed or gone.
And some are hidden deep,
so we can carry on.
They follow, charm and haunt us,
no matter what we do.
Until one day they slip away,
and we become one too.