' Something was, something was gone, something was left.
I can't hear a single ear
Silence stings in the heart like thorns
so unmerciful
It hurts to hear unsaid words
Don't compose anything.
Don't call.
No no no no
distract the indifferent
silence
How easy any thoughts come
were rows unfinished
I open the books of life clean pages
I'll most likely compose something else.
While I'm on the road I'll stay
The fresh verses will be born
And then I'm gone.
in the autumn fog
on wounded wings
of hope exposed
An immortal spirit
