Always at night but not everyday I can smell an embryonic vague feeling About what I left behind In the land of slaves
Fear, redemption, Agony and misery
4 words represented A fallen shameful kid Escaping from them but Committing other brute mistakes
He became something I never expected He was I but only now I can be me
Taking a deep breath, Exhaling now I can remember Would have been impossible before, The cure wasn't around The patterns were never simple And clear Why when I'm alone Do I pretend I'm back to that land?
I'm not afraid but some old mistakes may reborn Is this caused by the main reason, the true witch I'm expecting? Am I truly expecting her or am I condemned for her non existent? Because of this inquisitive I tend to brake and mislead myself
How am I supposed to continue with pride? All I am was never tasted by whom I molded Since her nonexistence comes forward with impudence May the meantime become short and existence become unfaked