Anorexic branches of weeping willows
Get played by the wind
A hungry man pushes milk on a trolley
Strolls by corpses for their sins skinned.
All this shines under morning rays of Melancholy.

Soft sounds of Rachmaninoff
Make nature in frames move
Holy is the feeling of freedom
Every escape of mine freedom does approve.
All this shines under morning rays of Melancholy.

Silver collars of workmen
All washed and left to dry
Empty parks and streets get haunted
As years go by.
All this shines under morning rays of Melancholy.

Hordes of suits pour in crimson rooms
Stacked with greed
From floor to roof
Indeed fast they run when they smell the truth.
All this shines under morning rays of Melancholy.

Shadows go around
Green dies and again is reborn
Every year with even less sound than before
Corpses still hang, God wants more

And all this shines
'Till one day it sets on fire
Burnt is the last proud buyer
Melancholy stands still, stopping to admire
Then walks away, She understands;
The world has expired.

Trembles of the sea
Are trembles of your soft words.
Moonlight patches on the surface
Make up for your salted cheeks.
Cries from comforting depths
As abyss drowning your eyes.
Gentle brushes against the shore
Are hands wiping and whispering
- ˝No more.˝

The painful flight of birds
Is your soul dreaming
The sound of cheering
Is you saying my name
The play of violins
Is you singing and your display
In the silver mirroring game (we all play).

Hard wooden floors await your fall
But you only feel
Trembles of the sea,
Moonlight,
Depths.

They offer you the sky but you know that's just another cage
So every night you tap little bits of rage
In paper that listens
'Till one day it glistens

And again you hear
Soft brushes against the shore,
Pleasant hands wiping and whispering
- ˝No more.˝

Watching people drifting from one port to another
What matters is the trip say the others
But me, I wouldn't mind never coming to an end
Floating in an open sea until I start to fade
And stars above me sing to my name
For I touched them with words when they needed strength.
The oak wood softens as it never did before
It remembers my fists whenever we heard of wars
The sunlight still beams, dancing with the waves
My loved one still laughs like it's the first day we met
And the wind dries my eyes
That way I won't cry
When they come for me
And it's my time to say goodbye.

Dead but free is what they talk about in alleys
Of whispers they make beds
And lay with their lies
While dreams stand aside, too close to the fire
As soon as they melt, the Lord becomes a liar.

When all water runs down the street, gets tired of the old road and constant burning of the wheels
When it escapes your eyes, the trees and bushes will run towards you.
They will greet you
And for the first time you will hear your name.

When all bricks get smashed, a great earthquake being their savior
When all life does perish, the sun and birds will touch your skin and ears.
They will greet you
And for the first time you will breathe.

When cold gates that imprison words get broken into
When the mouth becomes the ***** and a boxcar with which all are able to burn, pieces of diamonds, little pearls, will come flying and wounding your flesh on your chest.
They will shoot you
And for the first time you will touch the void.

When air gets torn
When winds call again
When touch restores
When pathways become walked upon and not just observed from a great distance,
Then will the man be able to dance.

Let chaos lead the way
And flowers of thought will bloom along the path.