Písmo:
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In the front of your eyes
you pulled down the curtain
a see-through disguise
whats the prize
whats our worth
what or souls mean to this world?
is our toll for living
to get hurt?
I stir my words
in mouth
I stir them up
with a pen
len...
len...
I put them everywhere I can
behind your ear
under your cheek
to soak up every tear
A part of them I only whisper
to the emptiness of my shell
but I believe that the echoes of my soul
will get it somewhere
tell me if you can hear
even if I was missing myself
in those words I still appear
