Disillusion

I’ve lost my creativity, my purpose, my life has changed and things are getting worse;
Through strife I’m running like a kite in autumn, and all my talent is forever lost.
Out there I’m going now, and lock behind me the door that once was going to my star;
Away I go, to work, to live, to suffer like others that were once too small, too far.

And seems too long since love has touch my beating; this dream I’m living now has turned me mad;
No reason to live on I find and people have made me lose myself and all I had;
How can they be so blind at moon’s perfection and nature’s voice in our heads so frail?
And separate the beauty from its body and lift our ugliness’s frightening gloomy veil?

I would have been an angel if they let me; I would have made our world of other things;
I would have risen priests in white to show you, and give you each a pair of God-like wings;
But every second since you burned my notebook and took my feather, feels like painful years
And sweating to survive I am like servants left out to starve and brought down to their knees.

And to my knees they brought me, and I took it. No point in fighting, this is not my war;
I’ve ridden my own road for twenty years; now, counting it all backwards I seek more.
I wouldn’t ask myself what is the purpose, or what ideals stand in our lives for,
But why wouldn’t I dream of mere perfection when outside worlds are eating at my soul;