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 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....