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Melodic stanzas
Are symphonizing their way
Through your weary head
To feed your distrust
And fill it's mouth with the desire
To soulfully be one with your creation
Not a subject to control
You call upon a higer power
For help and inspiration
The crowd waits
And turns their faces
Towards you expectantly
You give them what they need
But their useless criticism
Makes you die
A bit more inside
Not a subject to control
You call upon a higer power
For help and inspiration
Oh, I swoon
While loudspeakers play soft music
Leaning
Over your fourtieth masterpiece
You must have loved
The colour of these violins
I wish I knew you
Your fit of insanity makes me sad
I wish you knew
Your music was to stay forever
And I hope...
I have no clue
If you know how much it matters
And i hope...
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