Still writing all this poetry
Still longing but for what
Still don´t see myself in all those mirrors of the sea
Still I am not what I want to be
Dreaming every night of an upcoming miracle
Which will happen to break the iron chains
To show me all the things I´m trying to reach
Waking up, I lost the fight
Oppressing questions rising in my rimes
If only they´ll be read after all my times
If only they´ll be found under all this pain
If only they were gone in the pouring rain
Adoring all those ghosts of never written tales
Absorbing faces, hiding from my sight
This beauty shows the way to the stake
T the final breath I will ever make
Oppressing questions rising in my rimes
If only they´ll be read after all my times
If only they´ll be found under all this pain
If only they were gone in the pouring rain
Virtuoso master, little boy, trying to reach his class
Every night all alone, in the wet gray grass
Crying in the moonshine, teardrops on his rimes
If only the´ll be read after all his times
Will I find myself in one of all these lives
Will I like myself any day or any night
Will I kill myself in any desperate scene
Or will I live my dream