They call me blessed,
But then I wonder;
Is being unlucky called being blessed?
Then they call me lucky,
Just because I survived;
Do they compare me with someone who died?
They want me to rejoice,
But what they call life,
Is always being in a mood to celebrate called life?
No.
It's called lies.
Incapacity to face the real truth.
Yes.
I will rise,
To give a surprise..
When the Sun rises at dawn,
When the darkness falls off,
When the memory fades away...
As the story goes on,
New leaflets are turned,
The suspense can only deepen!
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
They call me blessed,
But then I wonder;
Is being unlucky called being blessed?
Then they call me lucky,
Just because I survived;
Do they compare me with someone who died?
They want me to rejoice,
But what they call life,
Is always being in a mood to celebrate called life?
No.
It's called lies.
Incapacity to face the real truth.
Yes.
I will rise,
To give a surprise..
When the Sun rises at dawn,
When the darkness falls off,
When the memory fades away...
As the story goes on,
New leaflets are turned,
The suspense can only deepen!
