I had tried to write a book, about their souls
But it was too stupid, without a name.
Papers were empty and pencil was dull,
Couse so called souls are one big shame.
Their touch to my skin is one big shoot,
In front or to my head.
I don't need their pity questions-
Why am I so exhausted, so sad.
I don't feel anything,
All is the same.
With no tones and no shapes,
Who do I need to blame…
Empty faces in freezing cells…
I've been seeing that all freaking day.
And just ask those thiefs-
Is it leading to same old or even worse, new way.
To the book from begining of story
I'm throwing their candle of greed.
Maby I'm beeing frustrated, or what,
But with their air don't want to feed.
I don't feel anything,
All is the same.
With no tones and no shapes,
Who do I need to blame…
To blame, couse we need to blame…
Need to blame…when all is the same…
Yeah…
Post je objavljen 23.02.2005. u 02:03 sati.