I remember the days when we were two stupid kids,
we were eating blackberries grown on tombs
and the moon was just a big stone
the sun was leaving its last breath on.

Now I am looking for you on the Wood street
where you last time smiled at me,
on the Wood street where people eat with their hands
the remains  of those burned by unhappiness,
while fools sing about love and dreams and the holes in their hearts.

I am looking for you
and I don't know whether you are a human or a dream
or the ash
that slips through my frozen fingers.

Maybe you are just the hole in my soul,
maybe the moon is more than a big stone,
maybe I loved you
maybe
you are still there somewhere
in the Sun's last breath.
Maybe it's just your smile
that has burned
covering my soul
my hands.

The train halts
For the people to alight;
And I, faraway,
Find ways to **** the night.
I take out my diary and a pen
To jot down all that I feel then.

The train halts.
And with several others, I get down
To freshen up with a cup of tea.
A thought keeps lingering within me;
I keep seeking ways to be happy; but
Happiness is what I (wish to) have and what I wish to be.

And with this honest, humble thought,
Hoots the train, I hear.
Asking me to get back,
For my destination is near.
Yet, my journey of life has lots to see,
And she wants me to be back on track.