The vicious plane has thieved you from my hand
Your eyes are turned towards another land
A frail patch of gentle gaze yet lingers,
And somehow, you try to understand.
What happened here, what do you feel?
Was all it real or just a dream, illusion.
From where I stand, still feel the swirl,
In wildest shadow of confusion.
It kills me here, I lost control,
My self-exile is over, — I am not dead.
Got we the chance to have it all?
How do we plead to fears instead?