Still minds by the wounds of thoughts,
Frozen in action with hallucinating pain shots,
Of what could be done but still a stand,
Helplessly without a hand.
You see, you know, you hear, you want,
To point out to the world their true side,
But within that cold clueless shell,
Forced are you, to hide.
The dreams many,
Prayed upon a shooting star,
That finally crash-landed,
In a place afar.
The clouds hid the secrets deep,
That was wished to be kept,
And finally, when it was theirs to keep,
It poured out from depth.
If only like the clear sky,
The words unfolded were true,
We wouldn’t have any melancholy songs come by,
And would have woken up to a better view!