Easy, that’s not how we like it
We dive in chaos, storms, pettiness, valleys, and some piano notes
We hug ambivalence and all the wrong paths we chose
We hang balloons to our walls and then throw a party with no noise
We cut all the ropes and loose the grip of our souls
But then we find no wings of our own, and no sun to ease our solos.
Winters could now come and cover millions of burdens
We all know the frost can never let you waste your time in endless sorrows
And life itself runs as ghosts come to install their chorus
So, we desperately seek a star to wish for a fantasy script
But then we know lies have no spring, and we dive in airless spins
We find the world to be just a miserable corner of some street
And wonder how come Christmas finds it several nights a week…
We see believers’ genuine laughs with no sense for our fuss:
Can we pretend we are born once again; can we wipe it all with a smile and a stroke?