What is the thing that keeps me in place
or is it just me holding the past
I can only try looking up to the space
'cause I'm still like brass cast
I talk to much but I can't tell enough
but who can even hear me
I build around walls I cannot ruff
impossible to be seen
And how can the life be sweeter
when all that you drink is just a dry wine?
what if I told you it all is bitter
but our desires make it luscious for a while?
