A small rumor that whispers a promise,
delivered by summer wind,
of womans touch seen,
in a glimpse of a dream,
can make a poor mans soul,
keep going for months

Isn't it ironic,
I, try to size up shoe,
when we knew,
our love, never felt true,
lost at the sea of ours,
I look at sirens,
wishing, I was wise too,
seeing now, why is you

It starts with C,
we all know the abc,
then comes delta,
we forget all,
spike me, **** me, penetrate me,
and now nobody knows abc,
it's new letters, new syllables,
and I thought I go mad,
on poetry, philosophy, but no,
world has lost it's mind,
now,
we all go down together,
battling, mostly each other,
what has happened to the world,
to you, to me?
we used to know ourselves,
our sensibility, on shelves
will you be my friend?

would world tear apart,
if lonely got their part,
of love,
would it be a sin,
if shy found their kin,
for once

it's not about how happy life you live,
when you're dead and gone,
six feet under, all alone,
see, happiness don't mean much,
it's solely things you leave behind,
chirping any meaning at all,
to those who stick around few more years,
sure happiness makes the journey easier,
nevertheless it won't build pyramids,
make poor anymore rich,
or nothing, out of the ordinary

would you,
trust blindly,
help a person unknown,
where would you stand?
if situation,
can't be verified,
is a chance,
to save a life enough?
and what's moneys worth,
if they're lying...?