I'm not always the same,
I change from hour to hour.
The change is almost instant,
Yet only if you are looking.
...
Cold.
Gnawing, biting, silent cold.
Creeping in among the world.
Driving the life away.
...
Which Me Am I?
I'm not always the same,
I change from hour to hour.
The change is almost instant,
Yet only if you are looking.
With music I am free,
Other times I am chained.
I have nothing to call my own,
Except my music.
If you see me playing music,
I seem calm, at ease,
But take away my security blanket,
And I am just lost and confused.
With my music I can be free.
With my music, I am me.
© 2005