A dark and naked sky of thoughts
beneath which,
another soul stretches its arms,
for a few more years of pain
look at him and find out,
a naked man and a weeping lady
screams harsh enough to break the glass,
which has once had her
it’s the whore which finds….
it’s the hope which binds….
psyche, a private whore,
burning alive every hour
to his rue,
the error cost him the game
get me high with another smile,
it’ll dwell in me for long
look out of the window,
kids are playing
open your eyes and see,
we are all insane
like a lost child with a scar,
easy to find
no pictures around,
it’s the game that reminds,
it’s the game that rewinds,
it’s the whore which finds,
it’s the hope which binds,
and it’s the scathe on this ugly mind….
