Everything a little left of center
Nothing yet has been quite this hard
Take me to the nearest winter
Can't be that far
The sun is rising on the bend I wonder
What lies beyond meadow line
Questions that remained unanswered
Will resolve in time
In the western world
The grass was greener on the other side
But the other side was a field of thorns
Now we build the towers just to brave another perfect storm
Everything must happen for a reason
When the reasons finally 'turn to form
The silent paradise of Asphodel will finally keep us warm
In the western world
The sun is high and I'm smiling again
This is the end.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI