There’s a price to pay,
For every thought that passes our vulgar mind.
The sand holds no answers,
Yet we kiss it with our anxious feet.
We let the waters caress our soul,
In hope that freedom will be ours when dawn approaches
We let our minds drift with the winds,
They brush the horizon and there’s a momentary gleam in our eyes.
Hope is a killer.
A killer we mould with our very own hands.
Hope is the glass house,
We build or tear down as we please.
Is there no way to let our hearts go numb?
Is there no way to feel but not shatter?
Is there no way to let go off that which we have no control over?
Is there no way to free ourselves from ourselves?
I guess there isn’t.
So let’s move with the waves.
Let the cold outside brew the cold within.
And let’s just float away.
Far, Far and away
To somewhere we don’t want to go.
To a land or water or sky we won’t call home.
Let’s just leave to never return.