The search for solace in the dawn,
In the long wait for the golden ball,
I dig deep in nostalgia until it's gone..
As my voice dithers to make the call...
Vicious circle of brief escapes,
A silent suffering until the day,
Why do the wings close at minor stakes?
Why do the lips stop when they have a say?
A word of wise to the Alice in Wonderland!
Does it ring a bell in the insanity of black hole?
Do the heights reach my head or glow in the sand?
Does this soul rust again in the thirst of the golden stroll?