I don’t
sing to the moon no more
And the sun
isn’t showing anymore
The poison
that once relieved the suffer
Is now
nothing more than anger
I once
wrote how the skies were beautiful
How the
flowers chased away the hateful
And how the
breez consolated your uneasiness
I now
realize how all of it was meaningless
It all
shuffled inside what made the garisson
A box that
gave everything a reason
And became
at the same time a prison
In the
middle of my journey I came to understand
That bob
was right,and that the sand on my hand
Was
nostalgic dirt that reminded me of the beach
A beach
that is no longer there to reach
So all I can do now is preach
Lejain.
