Melodic stanzas
|
are symphonizing their way
|
through your weary head
|
|
To feed your distrust
|
And fill it's mouth with the desire
|
to soulfully be one with your creation
|
|
Not a subject to control
|
you call upon a higer power
|
for help and inspiration
|
|
The crowd waits
|
and turns their faces
|
towards you expectantly
|
you give them what they need
|
But their useless criticism
|
makes you die
|
a bit more inside
|
|
Not a subject to control
|
you call upon a higer power
|
for help and inspiration
|
|
Oh, I swoon
|
while loudspeakers play soft music
|
|
Leaning
|
over your fourtieth masterpiece
|
You must have loved
|
the colour of these violins
|
|
I wish I knew you
|
Your fit of insanity makes me sad
|
|
I wish you knew
|
your music was to stay forever
|
And I hope....
|
|
I have no clue
|
if you know how much it matters
|
And i hope....
|
|
-----------------
|
Travel
|
| The Gathering |
