It starts with one
Then as it grows, so do you
Carried away in it too
Explain it, another time for me
What we all used to be
Hearts roaming, simply free
Now, we all just want more
Another reason for war
To chill your heart's core
Really, what do we fight for
It's a miracle we can survive
In this hell hole, remain alive
Left and right, kill and connive
So ready, we are, to deprive
Anyone so we can thrive
Sell your soul, the last of tricks
To avoid the last of conflicts
Scared right? Such pain it inflicts
Who saw knives in this deadly mix
Work your mind, hear the clicks
That deadly beat to transfix
When the finale comes, what then
Run and hide, like the least of them?
Pray to sun, the skies, heaven
As like leaves fall, so do men
Women, children, once again
Peace? It's coming soon? When?
When a hare survives in fox's den
Step back and speculate
How loud we have become of late
Locked in this mind state
Running away from our fate
You can't block that heavy gate
That stays open in quiet wait
Every minute will simply generate
Just another form of hate
Studio B
- Mark
- When you need to wake up in the morning, and set the right mood for the day, when you need to escape from the overwhelming everything of life. What do you turn to? How do you describe your core without speaking aloud, without having to talk to someone about it? This is how. Music. Lyrics. Poetry. Do you feel it? Do you? It's here, it's everywhere, locked within you, within the most tone deaf of us. It's begging to be released, become unleashed in a tearing chord, a crying melody, soulful harmony, dying lyric. You feel it yet? It's concealed here, within every word that I write. This is my release. I want you to see it, to feel it with me. This pure expression of every tangible and imaginable emotion known and unknown to man. To me. Welcome to The Window.