Verse 1
Empty days, full of despair.
Change is coming my way, for all who cares.
My wishful thoughts. Fill the empty shelves.
With each new thought. An old one fails.
Verse 2
The end hour.
Of each passing day.
A shelf dissolves.
A new one is made.
Out of all my dreams.
Only a few come true.
Most are forgotten.
The remnants simply clues.
Verse 3
A brand new day.
For us to defeat.
A mental track is made.
For us to complete.
Of each passing night.
I get weak in the bones.
I guess its called life.
It's time to grow old.
WZ
No comments:
Post a Comment