deepundergroundpoetry.com
Nobody will...
Help us, otherwise no one will.
We are all outcasts, nobody listens to our cries.
Somebody save us, because here in the darkness, you can hear the whispers in the night.
When you paint with your soul, nobody will know your meaning.
And when you live on a hill.
All you will hear are the whispers of the night.
Where you can play your music and no one will listen.
Where you can dance and nobody will glance at your faults.
The only problem is... When you live on a hill, you will live alone.
We are all outcasts, nobody listens to our cries.
Somebody save us, because here in the darkness, you can hear the whispers in the night.
When you paint with your soul, nobody will know your meaning.
And when you live on a hill.
All you will hear are the whispers of the night.
Where you can play your music and no one will listen.
Where you can dance and nobody will glance at your faults.
The only problem is... When you live on a hill, you will live alone.
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