Only Fashion, Fight, ljóð frá 28. maí 2015.

Sadness, still the saying on the wall.

Soothe me woman, need your loving arm.

Those who die and crying call,

crumbling in the fall,

didn't mean the hellish harm.

 

Empty life in every tunnel seen,

even those I thought were good and right...

Lost and lying in between,

left the robbing screen...

women, only fashion, fight!

 

Pain I feel, I'm poor and loser now...

pity myself, nothing can I do...

He or just the holy cow?

Heaven, see the Tao,

no that wasn't near it, you...

 

Days are falling, cards are crying too,

can't see nothing right, he almost gone...

Matters none what men will do,

me or someone, you,

doubting more the moor I'm on.

 

How can I be something, not the shame?

Seems like grandpa was the best of us...

Pity, still is known my name,

not in this old game,

every person on this bus...

 

Never shall I walk their vile old paths,

wasteful present, fashion just from hell!

Mourning, through the strolling straths

staring at the wraths...

like them, thought I was so well!

 

Crumbling world, I'm not the standing stone,

streets of loneliness, I can't be rich!

Do they know the telling tone?

Taverns full, their own...

if she wasn't always bitch...

 

Wish I had the means to make them see!

Mourning world he tried to change for good!

All is lost, will ever be!

Oh, and never free!

Human kind is shame, as should!