If tomorrow were to be the end
and the world would stop turning,
Take my hand, yes, break with me
the night into the morning,
For I'm a skin to few, and I thought I knew
but you left me so withdrawn,
Now I'm too down to speak and I'm to low to peak
for I know I'm already gone.
Inside my head, my mind is racing
competing at such a speed,
Outside thy shed, the world is pacing
full of jealousy and greed,
But I won't take the easy road
I'll take the lonesome path,
Nor fill my head with error
'come a victim of their wrath.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's actually one of my weaker writings. Check out 'Free'!