| The ability to see makes me wonder
|
| Whether there is a hole in the ground
|
| Or in my mind
|
| Like the hole inside my heart
|
| It swallows anything which comes close
|
| If we dare to look down
|
| Something lives inside this hole
|
| And it screams from time to time
|
| Then it pulls me down
|
| Into the absence of all sense
|
| Asking all the questions ever asked
|
| But it listens only to itself
|
| So, I had to appear in a mirror
|
| To the questions asked by no one
|
| For the very first time this gave light
|
| Into the darkness of the soul
|
| Shattered dreams are the pillows
|
| For the hurt one who lives inside this hole
|
| And he screams from time to time
|
| For the absence of sense — like in this rhyme
|
| Which is a shrine for all the ones who see
|
| The hole in his heart
|
| Is the hole in the ground
|
| Which was never there 'cause it ate itself
|
| Within the answers always asked
|
| It never dared to be
|
| So it screams from time to time |