The morning mist
A stroll down the road...

The beggar on the street
The laughter of the rich...

I was like an open book
Until the writer came and wrote me...

Desperation night passes in vain
Culmination behind the curtain waits...

Mirror mirror where are you
Iam searching for you everywhere...

Sinking further and further
Into this night sky...

On a fine Sunday morning
I sat with my pen...

Tired of each lie
The circle of broken ties...

I hear a thousand voices
I see a thousand faces...

It was my favorite past time
Watching the flow of the mystic red river...

With the solemn grace of night
came the wind and the red moon...

When dream and day unites
The stars and the sun looks alike...