She grabbed the silence tight within the final glance And walls where closing all around her voiceless temper The hour was dealing with the future on a chance And life was leaving my ambitions empty-handed
A tiny sentence states the truth just like a quote To end this story in a prettifying disorder My voice kept coming as if waters sink a boat While she was standing like a passing by beholder
If things could turn about…
Her pace slowed down in doubt right on the final stair And gave my gaze a chance to steal away the vision Her skin was drowning in the blackness of the hair Before she hide behind the neighboring division
That night with hands up high and barely one condition Gave in to another god I had in my past living To grant me back with just a beckon of remission That pure old dream I had, the one I used to live in
