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The monkbird(?) song is silver faced(?)
it's silent in this room.
And everything falls into place.
The night flowers will bloom.
And you want that you were born,
yet whispering lonely.
And your will is like a string,
shivering slowly.
And on and on and on and on,
you push for the world.
And your mind that you were born,
cos you're(?) so lonely.
A life is like a photograph,
faded by the years.
And looking through the broken glass,
will never still your fears.
And you want that you were born,
yet whispering lonely.
And your will is like a string,
shivering slowly.
And on and on and on and on,
you push for the world.
And your mind that you were born,
cos you're(?) so lonely.
And on and on and on and on,
you push for the world.
And your mind that you were born,
cos you're(?) so lonely.