My pride is rising,
Perhaps that is a bad thing,
Sometimes it’s a good thing,
in this life.
When I wake up for a cigarette,
Make music they pay for,
Love for, cry for,
I’ll be delighted then.
Cold air and grey buildings,
misty breathe and my hotel by the mall,
the largest mall I’d ever been?
One day I’ll have a million stories,
I can tell you all again.
My imagination, I wish I let it spin.
My heart, I wish I let it sin.
My eyes, what do they see but air?
All this while that I’ve been in despair,
Will I grow the courage to leave,
My old self behind or at least that part of me?