Travel

Melodic stanzas Are symphonizing their way Through your weary head To feed your distrust And fill its 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...