I see that free bird in the grey sky,
Lightning strikes and the bone’s can’t lie.
I see those swans in the murky river,
Wishing it was me only causes a tither.

Stop trying to be kind,
Solace is a prize I want to find.
With the voices in my head,
Telling me love purely a fantasy to soon dread.

How low must you go?
How high must you fly?
Your happiness is a pain,
I try to disguise.

How long must it take?
How quick should it rush?
Your stories all sound the same,
But it’s my heart...