The bitter taste of a poor farewell
was the last to stand when all else fell..
Our taste buds kept going on and on
begging for a final taste of what belongs..
A taste of fear from things unreal..
And the taste of true love's tender heal..
The flavour of things we took for granted
now lies deep beneath our tounges..
We realized that what we never wanted
was the oxigen flowing through our lungs..
We went on being, like seeking blood cells..
Vain to vain..
Train to train..
First to main..
What will we find at the next stop..
Perhaps a virus..
Perhaps a fresh crop...
A field untouched by the essence of man..
Or a life that goes according to plan..
Maybe this is how it's ment to be
We keep on looking untill we see
Whatever it is that we need to be..
But..
Untill our last days set us free..
The next stop
 is where you will find me..
On my back
In the sack
Dreaming of days where I am free..