The legs are sticking and take me to the depth, the air tears my chest with its dryness and makes it hard to breath. Last year's snow is allready covered with dust and disappeared.
Stretching hand to non-existing white birds, that take your soul to the sky.
There are no signs of my devastation in the world's memory. A new hundred of paper starks are making my dream closer, making my dream closer day after day.
Smashing the raindrops on the glass with my finger, trying to leave a print. I try to hide from the quick-sands, try simply to escape.
Stretching hand to non-existing white birds, that take your soul to the sky. Smashing the raindrops on the glass with my finger, trying to leave a print. I try to hide from the quick-sands, try simply to escape.
Make a wish to fool your mind with illusion. This never wipes of. This never wipes of.