All the sky has been grey for so long,
and I have been one with the rain for most hours,
thought I could be the one, who never burns,
like all the small boats that never return.

Forlorn I feel, smashed into smithereens,
amare turns to hate, it is all I breathe,
many of these murals, astonished in the walls,
with these pictures, dreamed to witness dawn.

High above, is such a hassle, ...