Mirror, mirror
the time is on the go
is on the fly it won't stop.

It will whisk over
my dead body for sure.

But can it reach
out to my soul?

too drunk honeybee,
stumbled out of the flower;
wind whisks him away!

you whisk me away for a weekend
take me somewhere where the sun is shining
and the kids are laughing
we forget about whats happening
but then you raid me towards the end
and find something you dont like
then there goes my freedom
i try and at like nothing is happening
but
in reality
when we leave the bright sunshine
i spiral back into darkness
and the kids are no longer laughing.