I pity the man
Who awaits so much
For things which to him are so real.
...
Living on a hope
Looking through blind eyes
Whispers on a silent night
Which fall on deaf ears
...
Always And Forever Forgotten
I pity the man
Who awaits so much
For things which to him are so real.
Ending up with a bitter taste
Of life on a whispering breeze
The moon shines dimly
Over an ever forgotten land
For he who waits so long
So unwillingy passionate
For a memory of the past
Which will never be again
Throughout his long days
So much and so little
In all of his time
Only vivid memories remain
Most of which are good
Now the man waits
For something which he knows is real
But time may tell him otherwise
So always pity the awaiting man
As what he longs for will never be real
And now I realize that
That man is me