I’m on my way out
Through the narrow gates of death,
I leave behind no doubt
That we have settled for less.
Is this the life that’s worth while living?
No. It is a race against the time,
So, where’s its fucking meaning,
When all it costs is just a dime
I’ve lost my careless sleep,
My nights are filled with sorrow,
The rising grief is deep,
My life’s not mine but borrowed.
Who am I, and what am I to face?
I saw the answers then I’ve realized
The searching soul’s lost in the endless maze
With no destination where the time is sized
8-15th of May 2003
I m on my way out
© Copyright: Евгений Вирцер, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106092900415
Свидетельство о публикации №106092900415
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