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A misty chamber for a broken self |
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Whose world lies shattered on the floor |
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He has no friends just a grey-blue chair |
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His mind is focused on the wall "desperation and gloominess nerves are numb...fragments of a fettered sun" |
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There is someone who stays in the plain house |
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Like a pale weathered shade behind windows |
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There is someone who sees cruel pictures |
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While he walks down the road dead tired |
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He's waiting there for an end to come |
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It's so unjust that he can't leave |
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The aching tune of his solitude |
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Will always whisper through that night "a mirror to wonder...words won't save me flattering darkness...fragments of a fading light" |
