what is there to paint
when the brush has betrayed?
A life written through wishes
Has knelt down to questions.
Words will never be enough
To satisfy needs of millions
Mist and mist all around;
Bruises,healing themselves
in fear of solitude.
And thus runs my story
Rewinding in a chaos game
Luck,life,love somehow
Fit together in a single frame.
Passion is something I never felt
But words are what I never left
Alone in my hut, I tend to my name
I find you, sitting pretty without a blame.
when the brush has betrayed?
A life written through wishes
Has knelt down to questions.
Words will never be enough
To satisfy needs of millions
Mist and mist all around;
Bruises,healing themselves
in fear of solitude.
And thus runs my story
Rewinding in a chaos game
Luck,life,love somehow
Fit together in a single frame.
Passion is something I never felt
But words are what I never left
Alone in my hut, I tend to my name
I find you, sitting pretty without a blame.
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