I did touch
or it might be She touched me instead,
tanglin me up in her embrace...
It's like she went here
to block and dry my blood within,
and now I feel so cold,
in and out this thick skin.
People who won't ask a thing,
because they did already accept
someone else's reasons in it,
are haunting me and say
those who leave go to the joy,
and that should be our peace
inside and out to rest and stay...
But all I see is pain,
questions nobody can solve
trash souls whom were happy one back day...
and then a raging why surfaces,
afraid and unable to make anything right,
and then I just look out to get
why words remains just themselves,
why do they stay so senseless,
ethereally fading away...
Those who leave leave to the joy...
Go and tell it to the one who stands
awkwardly bashed by speed of time...
Go and tell it to the one whom used to hope
in some present justice,
go and face the one whose hand
will never reach again
the shape of a loving man...
I'm over this hill
rushed by w