IRC-Galleria

The breeze on this Cobblestone Street
whispers your name.
I turn but there´s nobody there,
so I´ll just walk on away
The lines on my face
tell a story of a broken-down man.
Still torn by the screams of the past...
They won´t go away.

Wake up to the noise in the hall,
they´re yelling too loud.
My eyes are still weary,
too hard for me to picture the dawn.

*The lines on my face tell a story of a suffering man.
Still torn by the screams of the past.
They won´t go away.

(Now) the night comes too soon.
I know it´s too late.
These tears I am crying, they won´t ease the pain.
Still one thing remains,
disarmed with this pain.
These lines I am writing, they won´t bring you back to me.

I´ve lost my direction,
now driven to this same sick charade.
I dance like the marionette´s
and the voices drown out - * -

Now your holding him, while he´s breathing in
all the hurt you feel inside.
You wonder why I´m still standing here
when everything's breaking down.

COBBLESTONE STREET
by
LAUREATE