Theres a bed by a window and on that bed he gently lies The window is slightly open, through it a breeze flies Hes tired of inspiration, no longer seeks to be free Lost in desperation, he can see no more Im gonna live, a martyr I cannot be Im gonna live, simple wisdom and me And so we live this strange fire Hoping that we dont tire until we see All we can be One day lost in emotions, one day heavy with pride One day to contemplate devotion, on another afraid to go outside Cant he remember all he was fighting for January, December time matters no more ... Hes standing on the horizon watching the doves fly Hoping for resurrection he breathes a fatal sigh Then he remembers all of those years gone by The fire turns to ember, he lays down to die ...
hoping, live, window, bed, january