It comes to me as so strangely, not even one word brings to me, woven in the poetry's, in all of those countless thought and rambling oral of lyrics, as it is me known to do,A pattern the most beautifully to adore, a painting the most epic one among them all, inspirations so endless, in any form of visions, as were they even strings and instrument its self, to all of my ever most desired songs and music. So I ask my self where is the sign, of this so unexpected, so unpredictable, how may I not as always were I known for, to brightest know, the path already before me and even where it leads.
And just into the silence spent on my own, came the sense to me, mostly as was I by such inscrutable excesses for the affection I felt, so with owe ready to claim, even obvious illusions as so with shimmer and fate, a promise so devoted and divine, to have the mercy fading all the lack in my reality. And i taught my ignorance to wait a little longer, my loss of the attraction, logic reasons I have heard, to just round another corner, where I would find my self so complete. All these passions to burn within me, I more than willingly never ceased to find a way to touch my self with, all these words who took me there, holding me in such companion in times when i had even cried, for that so perfectly fulfilled image I had wrought, of the men behind their faces, with names I have since long forgot, all of them to most truly become projection of my love, one to come able to cover for what another yet had cost.
Yes I wrote all these poetry's - alone
and the paintings and my every vision by me - alone
and the strings of music was my company - alone
as the path i wandered - alone
And sense came to me, as I said
for all of the illusions to just left me - so alone
promises, so devoted as divine
the ultimate excess of my affections
and the burning touch by me - alone
When i could had let the ignorance had speak - alone
i felt no real attraction than for love - alone
It comes to me as so strangely, not even one word or rhyme as I am known for, to bring the sense to of this so unexpected, so unpredictable,
How may the one complete me
and become my everything
and my every wish - alone
And just into the silence spent on my own, came the sense to me, mostly as was I by such inscrutable excesses for the affection I felt, so with owe ready to claim, even obvious illusions as so with shimmer and fate, a promise so devoted and divine, to have the mercy fading all the lack in my reality. And i taught my ignorance to wait a little longer, my loss of the attraction, logic reasons I have heard, to just round another corner, where I would find my self so complete. All these passions to burn within me, I more than willingly never ceased to find a way to touch my self with, all these words who took me there, holding me in such companion in times when i had even cried, for that so perfectly fulfilled image I had wrought, of the men behind their faces, with names I have since long forgot, all of them to most truly become projection of my love, one to come able to cover for what another yet had cost.
Yes I wrote all these poetry's - alone
and the paintings and my every vision by me - alone
and the strings of music was my company - alone
as the path i wandered - alone
And sense came to me, as I said
for all of the illusions to just left me - so alone
promises, so devoted as divine
the ultimate excess of my affections
and the burning touch by me - alone
When i could had let the ignorance had speak - alone
i felt no real attraction than for love - alone
It comes to me as so strangely, not even one word or rhyme as I am known for, to bring the sense to of this so unexpected, so unpredictable,
How may the one complete me
and become my everything
and my every wish - alone
