Searching for songs that have lyrics to describe my mood. Why? Am I scared of talking with my own words?
Is there anything left to talk about? When there are musical artists, writers, poets and philosophers... It seems that they have already said it all.
My winter storm, holding me awake.
It seems to me that I have some kind of a sleeping disorder... No matter how hard I try, even if I go to sleep at midnight (yes, it's very early to me), I just won't fall asleep before 4 AM... Sometimes 5 AM... Sometimes 6 AM.
I've also tried taking Xanax, sometimes 3 tablets, which is far too big dose for me... And when I finally fall asleep, I see nightmares that won't let me rest.
Like a frightened child I run from the sleep that never comes.
But the hour's still the same, only madness knows my name at 4 o'Clock.
Why can we never go back to bed? Whose is the voice ringing in my head? Where is the sense in these desperate dreams? Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?
Sure as the clock keeps its steady chime, weak as I walk to its steady rhyme...
I've always hated the ticking of the clock. It makes me think about how the time goes further and further and further... and I still won't fall asleep.
Throw your mask away... are you the joker, king or queen?
Almost everybody wears a mask nowadays... To hide sadness, fear, angryness. How many of people you see in school, for an example, are really as happy as they seem? They might be on the edge of killing themselves, but they can remain a calm face outside home.
Phantom voices with no words to follow, at the mercy of the cold and hollow...
Got a secret, can you keep it? Swear this one you'll save. Better lock it in your pocket, taking this one to the grave.
Because two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead.
You swore you'd never tell...
Most people are not capable of keeping secrets.. The temptation of telling is too strong. Gossiping... it's one of the worst sins in my point of view.
Why is it that the most interesting thing to talk about is often other people?
I don't know what I was thinking, there's no sense in girlish dreaming.
The dream that lives inside me won't fade away...
Why?
Morning sun, please turn back time...
How can you be so blind? It's all a grand illusion, a trick.
You're the master in your own mind, but a slave to all...
And you still don't know that.
Find the comfort in the storm.
Her spring is sprung and dances done.
I hope I'll soon be healthy again... Please don't say it's something that bad that I might not be able to dance again.
You are hopeful and then you regret.
Hold your sadness like a puppet.
Every move you make creates your destiny.
Without innocence the cross is only iron, hope is only an illusion and Ocean's Soul is nothing, but a name.
Where have all the feelings gone? Why has all the laughter ceased?
Why am I loved only when I'm gone?
Why are people mostly loved when they're gone?
So much to live for, so much to die for.
Never sigh of a better world. It's already composed, played and told...
Don't look back, until you're free to chase the morning.
How much of it depends on the choices that we make?
A song that someone sings, once upon a december.
Figures dancing gracefully across my memory.
Things my heart used to know, once upon a december.
Last december was quite nice...
When silence evolves into a deafening voice.
I could never say these word to you. I could never doubt the way you do. I could never trace the steps for you. I could never live the way you do.
Gracefully she's circling higher, she has the wind beneath her wings.
I sure got my feathers burned, but I'm stronger than the flames.
You've got to get close to the flame to see what it's made of...
You play the victim very well, you build your self-indulgent hell.
I know three people who act that way...
As she stands by the window alone, staring into the rain.
...captive and blind by the darkness around.
Timeless awaiting for the break of dawn...
I think you were wrong about me, what if you were?
What if I'm an ocean, far too shallow, much too deep?
What if I am the kindest demon, something you may not believe in?
Die Wahrheit ist grausam, drum schenk mir einen Traum.
Oomph! has became very meaningful for me...
Du weißt nicht mehr, wer du bist, dein Spiegelbild hat sich entstellt.
Sie nehmt das letzte Streichholz und verbrennt unsere schöne heile Welt.
...I'll withdrew into my sanctuary of silence.
