Why dont we ever seem satisfied
of the things that we posess...
All the world's a painting,
And all the men and women solely pigments...
Good news, a final notice
No power if you cant pay...
Sitting there on the bench
you look up in to sky...
Sitting at the base
Of a tall waterfall...
I sit upon the lonesome stream,
Of curiosity and an undreamt dream...
I walk these lonely streets
no knows the things that I see...
The tides are changing
The beginning has reached the end...
Time is precious
and every second should be used wisely...
A myriad of Dryad tears,
sipped from the eyes...
Who am i?
why am i here...
Do you know the feeling where you just want to...
Do you know the feeling of your heart being ripped...