also in senseless and airy conversations i talked about my dream vividly
the sign that makes me return to myself before i am becoming completely soiled
i try to give a sense to my former immaturity
the immaturity that makes me believe in an fake paper-mâché tiger idol
the bureaucracy forgets to improve itself
more than ever i feel like a herectic. please erase it.
i want to go back but i can't. untouched sepia
a silent voice commands me to face the grave confrontation
listen to the voice hiding innermost
please don't forget the first abrasion
there is still a little of the chance, that everybody always has thereby
i ask for the ideal, dance around and beam. never ever...
the present entwines my legs. but i want to break free
my will follows the direction that i head for
