You lost control
Over your own soul.
Looking like a tree
without
any
leaves.
Because the leaves they fell off
It's what happens with love...
You don't need the leaves
So you let them fall
but you lost control
you lost control
over your own soul.
Like an artist, too late to create.
He came when it's dark
To draw the scene in the park..
But the moon lost it's spark
So it's way to dark to create.
It's what happens in hate.
When you're just too late to forgive.
No chances left to give..
So you're lost in the dark.
You lost control.
Lost control
over your own soul.
Pushed away love
And greeted hate..
Well I suppose..
This was fate.
It's Not Too Late
Not too late to decide
Too live again
Because after Winter..
The tree grows new leaves

And after Night
The Sun shines new beams.