The sky is burst with colors
Showing the vortex of heaven

The sunflowers are dead
Before she showed you how to catch

The meadows look divine
When the wind brushes the tip of peonies

Your face is wrinkles
From your never ending war with your madness

The church is only a place where you speak your grace
Before you gave it the meaning of your painting

I think your beautiful mind can never be defined
For people will never see who we really are