From running away to another... and the road still too far

  A turning road here... a turning road there... roads contains too many turning points

  The sun's mystery is no less than nights' mystery

  And no less than the mystery of the obstinate sea waves

  The sun resists my wings like a forgotten memory

  And motivate feelings inside me... that were forgotten from long time ago

  A thorn flowers... spreads along the wild roads

  And a poisoned scent of flowers... kills my last wishes

  One day I were having a wish... that was bright and shinning like a gold

  It became forgotten papers... It became romantic dreams

  And barefoot children lives in my heart... cruelly

  I am suffering from my pain... and hear more inside me

  What if I walk to the heaven... what if I became an imaginary

  What's the purpose of my papers... if they did not broke my pens nervously

 What is the purpose of my words... if they did not speaks with what's inside me

  I run... screaming on people around me... but not with things that are inside me

  I face world's braves... but the world crushes my hands

  What's the purpose of waking up in the morning... a morning that brings love or a morning that brings curses

  What will I earn from the night... what are the things that have meaning in the world

  The pale moon makes me in pain... the load nights... and the music

  And world's stories make me suffer...

  It looks like that I were a king someday and he was expatriate from his kingdom

  Where is world's burnings that can motivate my hands

  Where is world's disasters that can motivate my hands