Have you too once

Lost a will to live another day?

I prayed that this is not going to happen

Yet the strife is omnipresent

It is hard to be an optimist

In these mists filled with grit

And I spit on all the dishes of terror and grim

Which is cold like a dead fish from medias

Awaiting it’s parasites, dining on the juice’s flow

Which could save a body breath

Every fleeting moment is a death

Or at least we are marching towards it

Yet, still I won’t surrender myself to a cowardice

Of the unhealthy, pallid complainers

Only word hate and despise they know

Why won’t you let me borrow your hand

And let’s dance in this havoc?