The last words hang
On the vultures tongues
And hands wear the claws
To carry my feathers away
My warmth burns sometimes
And I keep the change
In the same pocket
With my lucky coin
Teach us to care and not to care
I’m the shield above the who I’m not
Teach us to care and to not to stare
I’m a postman wrote and burned all the letters in his bag
This time heals nothing
Always the time is not enough
When the coffin welcomes
The ice's still melting
In half emptied jar
Letdown is the first joy of grown-up
Back wheels hang almost over the edge
But my fingers are long enough to play white keys that are
Echoes of the past
And I can hear
My voice so careless about
How things work;
Loved to lock up
In grey haze
Over black woods of denial
But for now something's wrong with the melody
And I see those thickets are just painted decorations
And I have to appear grown-up and sad
