Every day I wake, physically weaker than before,
In my growing mind, the dreams I've left behind, the sign that there was more,
Colourless and vague, the thoughts they slip away with the daylight
Can I get it back, what can I do to get them back inside?
Into the delay, the sounds don't carry on into the graves,
All I've left to find, the parts I realise, all collective thoughts,
Blackness it awaits, slumber hits the rain outside my window,
With the brand new day, I've got some things I really have to find.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI