I’m so jealous of my loneliness, I’m glad I feel the same again, Naked in the crowd cold alone, These clothes they hide no more, How long am I going to carry this existence? This living is an over hyped routine…

Silence that sleeps in the heart of the dead, Was once bled to death in the chains of hope, In the utopian fields of loneliness. And now I am victim of my own conscience, Insulate me from my flaws and my kind…

My fair maiden don’t ask, Don’t ask me about my art. You know better what I suffer from, It’s your gift, your grace, Take it away anytime you want, The words flow when you dance inside my heart. Just like the ink and paper, I am just a medium of expression of your beauty…

There are a thousand ways to love that I know now, And there are a thousand ways to kiss that I know now, A thousand ways to kneel and hold hands in the dark, But only one woman to feel all this for and that would be her…

It feels so warm inside when I look into your eyes, There is no other place I would love to hide. And if I could save these feelings for the years to follow, Reality would be a bit easier to bear and swallow…

A pledge of hope, a pledge of patience, We are victims of our own contradiction, Renew the orgasm of ignorance, And follow the promise of peace…

Do you still prefer those baby blue sweaters, Red umbrellas and yellow hair? Do you still wear the same old summer fragrance that haunts me? Or have you changed it for the man you have coffee with?

She robs me of my imagination, The symptoms are clear when she is near, My eyes won’t allow me to speak, Its even hard to describe her sins, Oh the August child and her innocence…

Worship the withered, Leave alone the grief, There is wisdom in nature’s prudence. These emotions are our own conclusion…