Thoughts are slowly moving on Unseen where they're coming from In disguise feelings' tension moves Strings to be pulled by intuition
Changing words takes precious time Until great sense and suspense fi nd in line To be perfect Be the architect To protect your realm of dreams
I am condemned to see things in youth Kindness as matter, conceiving the truth Like a spider in its web I'm waiting for a muse A kiss to be abused
So call me, reason, tell me your name! Set me out of my mind! Foresee the treason combining each frame Shaping the perfect design
Find me all season cold in my grave I am the father of time Feed the horror that keep my veins alive To unwind the perfect line
And once you feed the fire My will is set ablaze Strings of thoughts move towards my consciousness Prosaic cynic's disease makes me crawl on my knees Pulls me under in quick sand, makes me understand
Carbon phrases take all their ways to find you A phrase of love I'm afraid can't be shaped without heart
Carbon lines fill space to create the perfect stream The Poet's dreams are fl owing in it, incomplete
So call me, reason, tell me your name! For I'm the father of time Find me all season cold in my grave Setting my mind to unwind the perfect line
My creation Through you my youth unholds its fire Ideas reveal in semantic spirals, concealed
You can read between the lines What you'll find is grace At the bottom of humankind
Solo - Christian Solo - Danny
And once you feed the fire My will is set ablaze Strings of thoughts move towards my consciousness Prosaic cynic's disease makes me crawl on my knees Pulls me under in quick sand, makes me understand
solo - Christian solo - Danny
Feed the fire My will's set ablaze Strings of thoughts move towards my consciousness Prosaic cynic's disease makes me crawl on my knees Pulls me down with her hand, makes me understand
Carbon phrases take all their ways to fi nd you A phrase of love I'm afraid can't be shaped without heart
Carbon lines fi ll space to create the perfect stream The Poet's dreams are flowing in it, incomplete