No more of music, no more of rhyme,
Lost in the vicious circle of time,
So much for ego, so much for pride,
The poet in me has died.
...
Drowning in shades of grey
I anticipate
Walls with ears,
Eyes, big mouths,
...
After the fight
We drifted apart,
And isolated
From the crowds.
...
It comes down like a soothing balm
To wash away unpleasant memories
And remind of pleasant ones
Deep down a soar heart
...
As strangers we met
To make love and separate
In dark rooms with no walls
Do you see me in her eyes
...