Winter in your coats never seems to cease They pictured you in summer, and you think you felt the heat Having all your favorite colors while advertising smiles But what's the favorite color of the high blue sky?
Putting words in your mouth, they can say what they want You're convinced that is true, while they shackle your soul With pockets full of money, you don't need the Sun to shine You're a trunk of a dead-tree, but you think you're really fine
Chorus: And hanging on a dark road I always see the light Carrying dreams in empty pockets With no home to rest tonight I drink to shiver sadness With broken wings to fly So they can call me drunken bastard But my heart and soul they cannot deny
Seven days a week you don't have time to think: Are you heading for tomorrow? Have your eyes lost their gleam? Is the smile on your face as happy as it seems? Does your last tear rest on forgotten shelf of dreams?