Can people just stop wishing that what they had was more,
when actually they have the things that people have died for.
Can't you see you burn to the core,
can't you see you burn to the core.
Can't you see you're lucky, just stop to smell a rose,
before your time on earth is done or before your heart would froze.
Your bones shall wither and be food for the crows,
your bones shall wither and be food for the crows.
Cause that's what you are, take a good long look inside,
your greed and selfcenteredness you cannot hide.
You are the one who takes the easy ride,
you are the one who takes the easy ride.
You would break and burn to have your own will done,
but to sorrow and hurt is where you would come.
Blind is the one that to the fire must run,
blind is the one that to the fire must run.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I love your poem. The repeat makes it sound so pushed that it stays in my mind even after reading it!