The mirror has, but tears inside
The art of inner movement - and
Life is not what you see by Truth
But what you want, to understand
So take my hand reflections clear
Of all the Love I feel my dear
Is dearest as the summers end
For you, I seem to understand
The skindeep puddles filled with memories
We are but mortal, yet and still
The power is not, within riches!
Or a cup with arms to fill
The clutches hold us to a meal
Of bitter honey sweet as veal
For we´ve forgotten little ones
In fierceful moans and eyes of steel
In fierceful moans and eyes of steel
I ask, and wonder not for those
Who face my mirror with a mask
And claim it is but bitter task
To face the face who has no name
To face the face who has no shame
And claim it is but bitter task.
But may I dare to ask perhaps..
With arms so wide and dreams so true
What is the purpose of your quest?
The mirror shows some tears inside
For you will never be the best
That is my faith - my father.. and
Life is not what you see by Truth
For even passing of our youth
Your heart - you need to understand.
milamber: | Zaterdag, mei 28, 2005 15:51 |
wauw.. diepzinnig, beetje mistig (precies genoeg), en een indrukwekkende beheersing van de engelse taal, knap geschreven! groetjes kerwin |
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Auteur: who cares | ||
Gecontroleerd door: fox_bert | ||
Gepubliceerd op: 28 mei 2005 | ||
Thema's: |