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melodic stanzas
are symphonizing their way
through your weary head

to feed your distrust
and fill its mouth with the desire
to soulfully be one with your creation

not a subject to control
you call upon a higer 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 higer 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....