As I lie down on sands of time,
Falling asleep, your eyes upon me caressing my bare skin.
Tell me the meaning of illusions.
What once was mine to keep,
A life, a fantasy, ideals of my pledge.
Beautiful illusions of a mighty kingdom,
But now revenged.

Bloody thorns are lying on my grave,
They are dying but I can’t help them.
They hurt me as I try to touch, touch their helplessness.
I can’t look away from their pain, as I try to cut it away.
All thorns are gone, but it’s a mess.
I open my eyes and I see:
Everything looks stained, finally the pages turn
And make the puzzle done for today.

I close my eyes and I annoyed the daily grind of my life.
Am I the one who does not see?
The threat of thorns is gone…
But why am I still weeping for a believe of none-existences?
What once was mine to keep,
A life, a fantasy, ideals of my pledge.
What has become of the dream
Of the mighty kingdom?

Eventually coming, deceiving all lies,
Turning to all the small things in life.
Every time I wonder how to become someone who’s safe from gloomy wanderers?
Every time I wonder how to open myself, slowly walking, falling and then rise again…
What once was mine to keep,
A life, a fantasy, ideals of my pledge.
What has become of the dream
Of the mighty kingdom?

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