Back then, when i was eight, nine or ten i wrote a letter to superman to ask him for his skills.
but it feels like i am still chasing wind mills, i am still chasing windmills.
i fought them so long now i know that i can do everything they let me do.
why can i not be the hero of my life?
affection was what i was waiting for.
because nothing cools the wounds of self-doubt like compassion does.
i can not deny that i have been traumatized an now i let him rest inside.
the hero of my life, as i found him in my sight

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN