She's been wandering for hours now,
Just wondering where she's going.
The brain is a damn fog now,
They said that's enough; would be good!
The rain hits the street,
Same damn street as yesterday.
These streets & the house,
Never asked her, how she feels.
This is a madhouse,
Cold as a morgue.
If you tremble too much,
They come with blue lights.
Beautiful people pass by,
In their beautiful, damn lives.
The fog only gets denser,
Õ their eyes are made of ice.
The lights become reflections,
For the water is black.
She balances on the rail,
They get believe what they want tonight.
This is a madhouse,
Cold as a morgue.
If you tremble too much,
Will they with blue light.

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