I stomp the ground...
I stomp the ground and count to ten
and then again
Still see the same
the lights are only dimmer now
a final bow
and then leave the stage...

The morning I rose to was torn from my grasp

I kick the wall...
I kick the wall and count to ten
and then again
Still hear those words
the dissonnance you once spat out
I turn about
on hardened knees I wait!

The morning I rose to was torn from my grasp

I am unarmed unless the crowd decides to cheer
I lock the door I'm staying here
This quiet place is choking me with heavy air
but the harsh winds are relentless there

The morning I rose to was torn from my grasp

I stomp the ground
I stomp the ground and count to ten
and then again...

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Kirjaudu