Colour 8

The Black Lamps

Compositor: Não Disponível

A gentle push to
The small of my back
On my way down
I look through the windows

I see all kind of problems
All mostly the same
A heavy drink
Of stirring emotions

As time travels through
The last of myself
My tight-fisted heart
Is slowly dissolving

No longer volatile
Just soaring and free
The ill at ease
Start taking over