Rita El Khoury (02/10/1985 / Beirut)

It's seven o'clock in the afternoon
Somewhere on the country side
A man lies staring at the moon
With his black eyes open wide.


It's almost night, the sun has gone
But the light left hides no lies
His battle he fought, but never won
The doom of a hero who couldn't rise.

Strong, he once was, and whole
In a time of careless selfishness
Until she whispered in his soul
Words of tender in a gentle caress.

Love, he loved, like never before
From his shallowest surface
All the way through to his core
Not foreseeing the roaming menace.


Void, he is now, and will remain
For she took her eyes and went away
Leaving this shattered insane
Struggling, lost and going astray.

Before his eyes, wanders her face
Memory of what he never had
But will always follow its trace
Like a hunting dog, eager and mad.

Love, he loved, like never he thought
Every moment, every glance
Every lost battle, every one fought
Every feeling of dispair or trance.


Never did he expect ending up alone
She was his promised land, his goal
Now he's a defeated king without a throne
With countless scars in his soul.

Cruel destiny, killer knife
That murdered his unique wish
Life, what importance is life
If not to be spent with whom you cherish?

Love, he loved, like never he will
For passions like this don't come twice
Devastating with an endless thrill
And an immense power to entice.


It's seven o'clock in the afternoon
Somewhere alongside the lakes
A torn man lies, he'll be gone soon
For that's how dies a heart that aches.