Travel - The Gathering

Melodic stanzas

Are symphonizing their way

Through your weary head

To feed your distrust

And fill it’s mouth with the desire

To soulfully be one with your creation

Not a subject to control

You call upon a higher power

For help and inspiration

The crowd waits

And turns their faces

Towards you expectantly

You give them what they need

But their useless criticism

Makes you die

A bit more inside

Not a subject to control

You call upon a higher power

For help and inspiration

Oh, I swoon

While loudspeakers play soft music

Leaning

Over your fourtieth masterpiece

You must have loved

The colour of these violins

I wish I knew you

Your fit of insanity makes me sad

I wish you knew

Your music was to stay forever

And I hope…

I have no clue

If you know how much it matters

And i hope…