Here I stroll in the midst of darkness
In the veil of throbbing songs
In the circles of faraway crows
Sparking the rage of lonely roads
Distant path of smoking doubts
Lurking through squatting sky
Slumbering ray of mocking sleep
Stout the walk to a distant trip
I am the passenger
Standing on this harbinger
With the burdens of my baggages
Stationed in my mind
Four paths to take
Through the snores of coatless sparks
I stand strong
Gripped in the cold
Stripping forgotten homes
I sat waste but hopeful
Watching my dreams in the clouds
I arose in my mind
Spitting away my doubts
In the road of light
I sat under the flames
Of burning whispers
And shivered at the tunes
Of the coming tide
Awaiting the train faraway
To reach my lonely lane
With the voices of good tiding
I am the passenger, caged by the voice in