I’ve lost the will to feel,
There is no more obsession.
My pain is no more real,
I sense synthetic pleasure.
Fed up with the lies…
I cannot write, no more.
So tranquil… What it for?
Fed up with the lies,
And have no pain to feed my demons.
I need the source to drink.
I need the love to think.
Fed up with the lies,
And have no pain to feed my demons.
I want to recreate my feelings.
