I touch my skin, from deep inside of me,
And I can feel realty, waiting like a beast of prey
For I am lonely and astray,
In a desert without water, cause for my soul I cannot barter…
But after fractions of eternity, I ask myself
How can it be?
What kind of beast are we?

All I feel is rage and hate, as I am chasing for my bloody bait,
and yet, all this,
is just some wicked fate, for which by far,
I was too late..

Too late to love, too late to die,
Too late to hope, too late to cry…


Posted: November 3rd, 2009
Categories: txt.
Comments: 1 Comment.
Comment from Passe - November 3, 2009 at 7:04 pm

Miau :)