Have you found your own reflection?
Looking back at you with such attention...
You stumble, looking for redemption...
Your heart was restless with hesitation...

Names...
Faces...
Places...

All forgotten...

How many times have you been seen...?
How many times have you fallen...?

The smell of the northern seas.
The song of the trees we feel.
Stars clutch at your feet.
Vague trance is where we meet.

Scandinavian skies, under the moon silky silver.
Into the blue we dance deeper.
Horizon lights gleam before my eyes.
Raging seas cold as ice.

Take hold of my drawing hand.
Weakly i ****** into the sand.
On the shore where waves crash.
Whom we made a rush.

Scandinavian skies set me free.
Scandinavian skies i lean on like a tree.
Silky crimson wrung through and preserved.
You write me a single sacred verse.

Here in waterford shall i linger.
Swaggering, touching the ancient walls with my fingers.
Listening to the sound of the marching folks.
Daydreaming as they walk.

These walls are old as time.
Aging and forgotten to the churches' bells that chime.
Passages i walk through, among the lines of years.
While my burdens i bear.

Waterford, your trees have so much to tell.
They stare at me where they dwell.
Your river flows ancient stories that evaporate through time.
Soothing me everytime.

Of all the souls wandering around.
Hers was the only one.
Taken away out of sight.
Dim, mine was slight.

Come sing me a song.
As every soul runs long.
Your story is yet to tell.
When you are in hell.

I see souls wandering around.
Distinct stories of life that surround.
Their feet hardly touch the ground.
I heard hardly any sound.

I was so young and raw.
I did not understand everything i saw.
I saw her with her hands between her legs.
She kissed me gently as for more i was to beg.

I was just a kid.
I needed a good deed.

My feet were on the ground unsteadily.
She held me up as she touched me gently.
I was young and wild.
She was grown and mild.

I was just a young man.
To my blood's desire i was to run.

She took my hands and placed them on her *******.
I could feel the smoothness of her skin underneath her silk dress.
The heat of my blood was merging with her rhythm so wild.
She was grown and mild.

I was young and raw.
She had much to show.
I was stubborn and wild.
I saw invitation in her smile.

An invitation into her world.

I walk myself to a place i know.
I feel familiar as it shows.
I feel cold as i browse.
Into the darkness rocks i throw.

As it gets darker it gets colder.
City lights dance in a swirl of colours.
I feel and smell vague scents of people who were once here.
As if they were near.

No sounds no movements.
I feel no enjoyment.
Empty street, a cold night.
I have got nothing in my sight.

How many passed this way, these footprints.
Of some i know and am not acquainted with.
Empty street, i stand alone.
Empty street i fall on.

She sits by her window everyday.
Waiting for her boys.
She has nothing to say.
Waiting for her boys.

She wakes up every morning just to look out the window.
Waiting for her boys.
Swirling around in the hall so narrow.
Waiting for her boys.

She prays every night to her sacred enlightment.
Waiting for her boys.
Wishing on a pure enjoyment.
Waiting for her boys.

Not the weak and vague scent of their presence hovering over her.

Till the day they come home safe and sound.
Till the day they come around.

Safe and sound.
Swirling around.

When the boys come home.
She will not feel lonesome.

And now waiting for her boys.
She collects their childhood toys.