I seek for it all the time,
I walk the roads looking.
Searching for a spark
The will reanimate me.

That one spark would be
The reason I live on
The prize I fight for
The music of my heart.

And no, that's not love,
I  wanna hurt myself no more.
And no, that's not hatred,
I've plenty of it for sure.

It's just a dream,
Someone else distant land,
Where I could stay forever,
There I would find my place.

It's just an idea,
A sacred treasure of wind's.
That could care about in peace.
That I could bring to life with a wish.

So won't you give me a spark,
I swear my freedom I'll defend.
I will transform into my breath,
So it can guide through the summer pain.

When he was almost dead
But was to survive
Oh Skotty was alive
As much as blood was read.

He slapped the tyrant's face
He couldn't stay
He ran away
Oh Skotty left no trace

And so he ran to the woods
Home he found
That wild ground
Gave him all kinds of goods.

And then there in time came
Children of moon
And soon
Skotty had a big fame.

Together they've built a tower.
There was freedom
And no boredom
Oh Skotty hade the highest pover.

Oh Skotty's tower reached the sky.
And there they live
They will not leave
The home was beautiful and high.

And their tiny kingdom stands.
Free folks they're called
And none they ever hold
Each one wears freedom's brands.

I would live there with pleasure
But I'm to old
And I'm so cold
I'm destined for another treasure.

When lonely roads, stay awake until  late,
I create many small poems, yet forgetting is their fate.

They are just ideas given some weird  form.
Born unwanted by a stranger storm.

Righting them down by me is in vain .
What kind of man would read words so insane.

Therefore I leave them on the road for wind take.
He will give to a better artist to inspire one and awake.