Dispossession

It is to see a traitor go free, it is to feel a filter in me. It is to leave the lights that I saw, it is to ask is it easy to go? In this dead hour here with you seconds are worthless. In this dead hour when all is blank minutes are worthless. How long will it take until there will be room again for hope? It is so sad to see dispossession, it has become my obsession. It is to have a knife in my back, it is to say my soul got a crack. In this dead hour here with you seconds are worthless. In this dead hour when all is blank minutes are worthless.