There is no such a thing as a gentle soul
It's only conscious choice of an exhausted mind.
This world became a madhouse by default
Within its walls no peace'll be ever found.

We all wander aimlessly through the corridors
Like in a giant and disturbing maze.
We're pendling quiet from the door to door
Intently watching lights as flaming blaze.

Those thin white ribbon of the shining light
Under the some of the doors is quite rare.
Some searching on the knees for those sigths
Some fights, some yels, some prays for being fare.

We're searching lights on dark and gloomy floor
Through miles of the endless hallway... out.
We're searching life and one and final door
with madness eager - like this it couldn't be found.

But in the end, still no one of us really knows,
What's hidden there. But an internal voice
Keep saying we should follow endless flow
Or... hit the door by fate, by rock, by choice.

Condolences for those who dare to explore
(By getting endless guesses - knowing too well)
The dark hallways and worlds behind these doors
And wiered traces on the gloomy floor...
Expecting to wake up and someone ring the bell.

25.07.2025