Show me a world
In which I’ve slowed myself down
To the point where I can see my own point of mind
My own line and where it ends
And when

I let go of my first love before it had a chance to bloom.
I watched it fall with autumn into the descending moon.

But here we are again; talking about yesterday's tune.
It's like nothing ever happened, and thus my pain resumes.

The porcelain bird flew so very high
until its neck encountered with the ground.
From the windowsill to the edge of night
it died alone; with no one else around.

The love you paint in my heart,
looks more like vandalism than art.

did i wait
too much?

or
was it

did i hope
too much
from you?

sometimes it really takes
too many lies to cover
a single truth

but

a single lie
can destroy
all spoken truths