In the dry desert,
There is a soothing pool,
Which with the driest dirt,
No man shall break its rule,
It stands to be assert,
As outlaws start to drool,
When these men hurry first,
They encounter their duel,
A man with crimson shirt,
To man he is no fool,
They try to make sure he is hurt,
By using deadly tools,
Some disguise to a friendly flirt,
To try to become cool,
But he does not attempt to lurk,
Cause they were very cruel…

There is someone who’s at the top,
Maybe a crook – maybe a cop,
Maybe someone who’s selling pop,
Or one who wipes the streets with mops,

There’s someone who decides to stand,
That person seeks to set demand,
Who sets before the moves are planned,
And does it all within one hand,

It may be right – it may be wrong,
Who’s at the top may seem so strong,
And may have trained for thy so long,
In order to keep moving on,

No matter how neither how hard,
The race will take you at the start,
And even if you don’t take part,
It may just take your wings apart…

See yourself and look at me,
For all I’ve known was known to be,
As me and self are vibes and beats,
As heart and mind can clearly meet,

But look at you and see a soul,
An endless orb that keeps on core,
As it creates a set of doors,
That open up when love gets stored,

Release yourself and thence find peace,
With many paths in this small street,
Find a way outside the heat,
To rest yourself on cotton sheets,

Cleanse the central solemn core,
As peace and glory cast once more,
As hate and anger reset fore,
For opulence has made its tour…

I’ve been searching for a reason,
To keep on living,
To appreciate others and keep on giving,
To make the turns that we have driven,
To love your friends as rightful siblings,

I’ve been searching for a reason,
To find the truth,
Of what I’ve been searching for in the truce,
And by trying to make my spirit coup,
I’ve found myself in an eternal loop,

Wheras I have fought against many names,
And whilist by trying to stay the same,
By fate did only my heart remain,
In this ****** hard cold dwelling of a crushed terrain,


I tried to be nice,
But rude things came my way,
And by thinking twice,
I kept losing my face,
Towards the reigns of the skies,

Then fell out of grace,
Yet with hope by my side,
I recounted my pace,
And against many lies,

Have I found my own trace,
In which made me the light,
That saved my own sake,
And within the fold did blindness awake,

Seeing all lies in the midst of the game,
And recovering of when I was once insane,
Happiness, truth, and eagerness came,
And foes have none but themselves to blame…

There is a soothing pool,
Which with the driest dirt,
No man shall break its rule,
It stands to be assert,
As outlaws start to drool,
When these men hurry first,
They encounter their duel,
A man with crimson shirt,
To man he is no fool,
They try to make sure he is hurt,
By using deadly tools,
Some disguise to a friendly flirt,
To try to become cool,
But he does not attempt to lurk,
Cause they were very cruel…