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On Preston platform

Do your soft shoe shuffle dance

Brush away the cigarette ash that's

Falling down your pants

And you sadly wonder

Does the nurse treat your old man

The way she should

She made you tea

Asked for your autograph

What a laugh

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At night.

Under the white moon,

Such a beautiful picture.

He's on his knees with a vine of red roses wrapped around him.

The thorns dig into his soft skin, and the red drops look like tears.

A hole in his heart, and butterflies,

Each one carrying a piece of his heart.

They fly across the velvet field to bury the blood-red love.

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Once the monkey washed her hands

And you start your silly dance

When I think about the passed time

Your tomorrow never ends.

People can be mad or happy

Silly, devastated, else:

I will pull you from the playground

And convince to wash your hands.

If I tell you that you’re useless

Baby boy, don’t be ashamed.

Word will make you feel disgusting

Disappointed and afraid.

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I used to fly, but now I’m barely crawling.

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On my way home

I've been trapped by the stories of the

streets

Narrow and slender, wondering aloud about the comfort of my shoes.

I've crossed the border of my youth and left a signature on the fence of my beliefs.

Nothing to sustain, no one to remember.

From the hills of my composure

The sun scaffolds the warmth -

I'll try to pet my frustration thorns

Just for one more day.

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In the middle of the room

I'd love to talk with someone

But who

Noone is here

I'm totally free

Just Lion with me

In my soul, in my dream

I'd love to to talk with someone

But who

And only a bullying a heared from my

friends

And the fight in my dream

With someone who also here

But no one is here I'm totally free

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Chop-chop-chop through heavy skies,

A loud sound that never dies.

Fields below and towns far,

It flies between the Earth and stars

Not quite a bird and not quite (a) plane,

It rules the wind and breaks the rain.

52

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in the middle of the night

on the right road was the knight

his hair was red like a blood

and in front of him was flood

he was awesome on his horse

when he saw an ugly corse

when he took his crossbow

and he fell and died in flow

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In the middle of the night

You're waking up

And see the light

The light of loneliness and hopeless

That becks yourself into the room

That filled with frightening awareness

Of your own weakness, laxity and doom

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Lots of things to recreate

Lots of things to love or hate

Many things to fight, to kill

Many things to fright, to feel

I’m the only one in here

Empty space no joy, no fear