As i cross the landscapes,
gray of time and pain...
The same old scenario;
the same old rain!

Caress the violets and...
Slowly whither away;
nothing unusual, nothing's changed,
a feeling mutual, visions deranged,
and all away... fall away

Pardon my senses,
pardon my weight,
do pardon me...
And my departure...
For I'm running late

A.r. Bazian
*Written in 2010