Being in love is like painting,
you get excited while creating it,
but when it's done,
it becomes nothing more but memory,
you can only think or talk about it.
And when it's sold,
it belongs to someone else,
you may or may not reach it,
and it can be sold again,
stollen or rarely borrowed.

Right time to see,
the difference between you and me,
and who i have become,
who i will be no more.

The freedom strikes my bones,
the truth is written on the walls,
wasting time no more,
bright days are yet to come.