See him wandering on the shore,
cannot shed no tears no more...
Will the wreck gather new forces
so different times he can endorse ?
He tries so hard but can't redress
his broken soul in the process...
So much details he shall retrace
on the path of his righteousness !

Days after days hates himself more :
sex, violence, hardcore.
Seething and sinking he soars,
seeking for perfect new flavours.
Would have been easier if heartless !
Kindness and love fears him to death.
Friends are stones of his fortress,
no place to belong, no recess.

He looks at things for what they are,
stays away from the junkie-jar.
Still sadness is just cold anger,
he chases all opressors.
Now sole the wind is a caress,
everything seems meaningless,
he feels nothin' but emptyness
but this life he plans to embrace.

No horns, no choir,
he bdes his time and he lingers.
Of death cold are the fingers
taping on his heart of fire.
To bend the limbs of time he dares,
about self-esteem he cares,
the discipline of a soldier
will lead him for shure to welfare !

He does not need to raise his fist
for enemies do not exist.
A motto echoes in the mist :
'banish sadness, at least !'.
Of his story he gets the gist,
sets his sight straight to the east
and whispers to himself 'whist !'