i'm a prisoner
of word's unsaid
just lonely feelings
locked away in my head
i trap myself further
everytime i stay quiet
i should start to speak
but istop and stay silent
and now i have made my own hard bed
inside a prisoner of words unsaid
i am a P.O.W.
not a prisoner of war
a prisoner of words
like a soldier
i'm a fighter
yet only a puppet
mostly i only say
what you wanna hear
could you take it if i came clear?
or would yourather see me
stoned on a drug of the M.I.A.
i guess that's what i am
scraping this cold earth
for a piece of myself
For Peace in myself
of word's unsaid
just lonely feelings
locked away in my head
i trap myself further
everytime i stay quiet
i should start to speak
but istop and stay silent
and now i have made my own hard bed
inside a prisoner of words unsaid
i am a P.O.W.
not a prisoner of war
a prisoner of words
like a soldier
i'm a fighter
yet only a puppet
mostly i only say
what you wanna hear
could you take it if i came clear?
or would yourather see me
stoned on a drug of the M.I.A.
i guess that's what i am
scraping this cold earth
for a piece of myself
For Peace in myself
hold fast to dreams,
for if dreams die,
life is a broken winged bird,
that can not fly.
the night is a big black cat,
the moon is her topaz eye,
the stars are the mice she hunts at night,
in the field of the sultry sky.
the mirror is the magic of man,
for his quest throughout time,
has been to see himself,
to know himself as others do,
and the mirror is his tool,
however, he must remember,
that the mirror shows everything,
exactly in reverse.
you are drowning yourself in sorrow,
holding close your memories of regret,
you hope then tomorrow,
the memories you shall forget,
but they never really leave you,
no, they are always here,
but in time someone will change them,
to memories that are so dear.
for if dreams die,
life is a broken winged bird,
that can not fly.
the night is a big black cat,
the moon is her topaz eye,
the stars are the mice she hunts at night,
in the field of the sultry sky.
the mirror is the magic of man,
for his quest throughout time,
has been to see himself,
to know himself as others do,
and the mirror is his tool,
however, he must remember,
that the mirror shows everything,
exactly in reverse.
you are drowning yourself in sorrow,
holding close your memories of regret,
you hope then tomorrow,
the memories you shall forget,
but they never really leave you,
no, they are always here,
but in time someone will change them,
to memories that are so dear.