Melodic stanzas

are symphonizing their way

through your weary head

To feed your distrust

And fill it's mouth with the desire

to soulfully be one with your creation

Not a subject to control

you call upon a higer power

for help and inspiration

The crowd waits

and turns their faces

towards you expectantly

you give them what they need

But their useless criticism

makes you die

a bit more inside

Not a subject to control

you call upon a higer power

for help and inspiration

Oh, I swoon

while loudspeakers play soft music

Leaning

over your fourtieth masterpiece

You must have loved

the colour of these violins

I wish I knew you

Your fit of insanity makes me sad

I wish you knew

your music was to stay forever

And I hope....

I have no clue

if you know how much it matters

And i hope....