• Feelings,they bottle up,
    They crawl inside, to die.
    It controls you and you control
    nothing
    behind every movement,
    every thought with every hope.

    The song of a thousand song birds
    The cries of a thousand loves
    lost
    in the black hole of eternity.

    You open up, open inside.
    To have the door in your face
    and your body on the floor.

    There's no time for movement,
    only a single hope.
    to feel. To feel alive.