One day walking on an edge of a seaside
The edge where the water can't reach your feet
Preceiving on a horizon a hillside
Where it is easy to let yourself go and leap.

Everyday I walk the same path again
Spotting the hillside and thinking of freedom
I once dream of saying to myself Hooray!
And drag myself out of that boredom

I want to tear my heart out
And hold it in my hands for a second
I dream of no doubt
Because I have been too long infected
And I am sick of the mystery
Hidden in the crooks of my torn heart

One day I dreamt
That I had torn my heart out
When I got closer to that scent
I really saw I had torn my hear out.

I was simply holding it
Holding in my hands
I was amazed of that
Because I can never put it back.

The moon is up, a mystery begins
And a nightingale spreads out his wings.
The ashen light
From the moon so bright
And darkened shadows
In the forest they gather.
The silhouettes are seen
But yet so concealed.
Sounds, so vague
Though they are not the same
As in a day.
The illuminated squares
Of the magic forest, shares
The wild beauty, yet so invisible.
You feel the dream of paradise;
The fragrance of the unfurled blossoms
And the sight of dispersed light,
Becoming unbeliavebly visible.
...why! It's just an illusion of perfection,
Showing up its starlight reflection.

you're the illuminating moon,
you're the night starlit sky,
you're my dizzy universe.

I Know a Jew fish crier down on Maxwell Street with a
voice like a north wind blowing over corn stubble
in January.
He dangles herring before prospective customers evincing
a joy identical with that of Pavlowa dancing.
His face is that of a man terribly glad to be selling fish,
terribly glad that God made fish, and customers to
whom he may call his wares, from a pushcart.

Everywhere mocking
Their laughter forever ringing
They think were just sport for them to watch
we're not human to them

Merely a source of entertainment to them
A mindless puppet without a soul
Always pulling the strings of those they look down uopn

Controlling, manipulating, killing our souls
Cruelty seen as a sick form of pleasure
Our cries and pleads music

Clowns all around you
Drowning out your senses
Their only purpose is to remind you
That you are lower then ****'

Clowns humiliating us as though they know us
Thinking we'll forever be their dolls
Clinging tightly onto our strings for fear of the day it snaps
Where we'll be freed
and become who we once were