I wrote with black ink that day
It was the middle of the night...
It was wet and sticky, the ink felt
When I accidentally smeared it
It was red when I saw in the dim light
It bled like I was bleeding
Bleeding without a single clot
No way to stop it but to keep bleeding away
I didn't know I had that much blood
I didn't know myself at all, it appeared
I bled and bled till I had nothing else to bleed
I bled for a thousand years
I have to bleed for a thousand more
Before I am at peace...

Today I tasted time
It was a taste I could barely describe
Was it sugary or the grains were bitter
Was it drenched with tears
Or syrup of excruciating pain.
Perhaps it was the nectar of memory
Or the only rain of this century
Won't pour for another hundred years
Was it whiskey like never brewed
Or even if it had, I've never tasted before
It stayed on my tongue only for a moment
Before I could feel it, it vapourised.
Perhaps its lifetime was merely a moment...
They usually are... Aren't they?

Everyday I wake up, yesterday leaves me,
With each passing day, youth leaves...
This queer game of leaving is out of my understanding...
Maybe its for the best but who's to decide
Don't we wonder what would've happened if...
Some things simply didn't leave...
What if boyhood had stayed
And her long black hair
That innocent smile never left
The embrace, the touch of her hands...
Who can tell...
Who can possibly tell...