From prince up to exile,
Another destination's wile.
Impossibility of playing God.
You're just a soul, you are so tired.
Hello little stranger,
I can feel your anger.
The disappearance calls.
You know, mental illness palls.
From prince up to exile,
Another destination wile.
(х3)
Your agony, such a perfection.
Second lie recalls reflection.
Window never helped me to see
The sky with dying sun, neither a reason to be.
Black never was a colour, black is around.
Choking with this darkness, can I be safe and sound?
He said, 'Whatever, you ain't mad,
maybe, a little bit dead'