Grown up in front of a movie screen
In a country where idealism was wired into his brain
He had gone through much of his life dully
Sure, he had his ups,
His love, his lust, his sunny days
And he had his downs,
His depression, his doubts, his rainy days
But he’d always return to that shade of gray.
It’d been so long though, so long indeed…
There was a time when he would look into the mirror
And see joy, happiness… purity
Only as a kid though, was there ever a sparkle in his eyes.
Now, he avoided that glass
It brought disappointment, like each chapter of his life…
His face unshaven, the dim light showed the darkness of scars
Now, the only think he looked forward to is the smell of burnt ash rushing through his nostrils
Now there lay something else behind his eyes,
A story
A story to tell.