in the midst of the gray fog,
there lies a sparkling oasis,
of clear fresh air,
for me to breathe.

do what you will to me,
and say what you wish to those surrounding,
we both know that their magic,
is that of a fool.

in this sad and lonely word,
the bikeless children gather round,
spreading words of joy and happiness,
but listeners there are oh but few.

as cold as i am inside and out,
take no notice of neither,
for when i drink of your sparkling water,
i am a flame in the century's fire.

the last missing piece of our puzzle,
just waiting to be found,
but the quarrel and squabbles,
make these simple lifes complex.

come along with me,
and taste your own,
you will see there's no reason to fuss,
your nature has left it's mark.

go on, ooze between my fingers,
try to disgust me with your lust,
the only one who's being fooled,
is that which is sitting in your cards.

now let me tell you a story,
or have you already heard that one,
of a beginning and a middle,
the end found in no horizon.