Glide

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.