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I was still life. |
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I was pinned inside of a photograph. |
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When I realized |
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You had slipped outside of the scenery |
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With only what you need to survive |
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So why did you come to me |
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If you looking at the enemy? |
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Open up |
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Open up |
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Open up |
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Open your houses |
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I was waiting. |
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I was reconstructing the memory, |
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Unbelieving in the changes looming inside of me, |
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The pulse of an irregular life. |
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But why did you turn away |
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Before the horn sounds |
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Over the dark terrain |
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And the weapons of the enemy? |
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Open up |
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Open up |
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Open up |
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Open your houses |
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And let in the eye |
