People are strange when you are a stranger,
Faces look ugly when you are alone...
Women are wicked when you are unwanted,
And streets are uneven when you are down.
Cracked mirrors give the true picture,
Where on your wings desire is bourne...
When mindless charades end in whispers
And heartless humour turns to stone.
The beauty in the beast surfaces,
Then all you see is not a clone...
And what is left of the beautiful sonata
resembles an eerie drone. |
