Flight of the soul, freedom with wings
Slow gasping, final calling
Walk on the road without lights
Believe in the truth that may not exist
Unaltering faith, untainted, self-proclaiming
The tips of my fingers stir the shadow
Directing where nothing may subside
Sweet nothings rule my everything...
Alas! What has become will never fade
Belief however will unleash the demon
Resided in my thoughts are memories
Some however are self-made, exaggerated
Keep them corporal for myself
I'm the solo zealot
Surpass the storm
If I'm strong, strong, strong
No comments:
Post a Comment