Land on the tip of my tongue
Ice-cold, fresh air
I inhale and it fills my lungs
I always dream of being lost in this place
A voice comes to mind and my heart starts to race
There’s something strange in the air of this space
I can’t bring myself
To once again leave this spot
It chews through my peace
And I feel how my mind starts to rot
Soft winds are whispering for me to stay
To give up what I am, to give myself away
Unite with the rest and let the poison decay
No comments:
Post a Comment