How lonely Am I

The Art of Staying Alone is Martyr
Fading along the days like black matter
Not knowing where to go with those
Voices telling me what he already knows

Though the times get tougher my windows stain
I try to wipe down the dust purge it in the drain
The forgotten sakes I keep buried in my mind
What is the reason for search you cannot find

Amazed by the beauty of its curves
The magnificent glaze it might deserve
Falling apart in preposterous branches
All paths are interred by jealous avalanches

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