Outsider

The sun is watching the birds fly slowly
The flock is buried by white cloud’s shadows
The beat is trying to hold the mountain
He is made of ice but never blood purple

Every time this happens
The children run faster
They run fast trying to catch their feathers
Every time this happens
The children run faster
They run fast trying to catch their feathers

The moon is distant
And no one matters

The bones are breaking
As age takеs over
The eyеs are spoiled by too much sunlight

Little nude monsters are crying for lovers
The more they try the more they slither

Every time this happens
The children run faster
They run fast trying to catch their feathers
Every time this happens
The children run faster
They run fast trying to catch their feathers

The wind is too harsh to even show up…
Even show up...