A misty chamber for a broken self Whose world lies shattered on the floor He has no friends just a grey-blue chair His mind is focused on the wall
desperation and gloominess nerves are numb...fragments of a fettered sun
There is someone who stays in the plain house Like a pale weathered shade behind windows There is someone who sees cruel pictures While he walks down the road dead tired
He's waiting there for an end to come It's so unjust that he can't leave The aching tune of his solitude Will always whisper through that night
a mirror to wonder...words won't save me flattering darkness...fragments of a fading light