Just A Trip
Just A Trip


I look at the sky, and deep I go,
Everything just stopped,
The wind is slow.
My eyes carry every bit of my pain,
And I stand here like a vane.
It's not about the hundred things around me,
It's the agony of truth that surrounds me.
All I want is to get rid of the screams,
Now, I stand in the cold,
Trying to ravel my dreams.
Cleaning the scars with a slow pace,
There fell a drop on my face.
My head still up,
And arms opened wide,
Along with the trip, I glide.
Where senses do not exist,
Just a cloud of black smoke,
Which makes it cold.
Where darkness can be seen,
Through the burning green gold.
Where the silence speaks to you,
And you fly;
There I stand like a vane,
Looking at the sky.