One more time you find yourself huddled in silence. Nicotine mingles with a mimic's tear, tarnishing moments forlon... Remember the stages that you were compelled to wander Where ideas were devised, where the phantom of fame approached like a brief encounter. Try to evoke the day... But memories are cold comfort for the mourning result of a long-forgotten cause. Passionless words defy the stage no more There's no applause, just a drunkard asking for encore A silent audience of dust and desperation As you remember certain faces that once engaged these empty places. With the fading light came desperate thoughts, as if the ghost of an urge rode a blatant breeze. And the wet ink on the paper blurred under your tears, just like water's clearness in the rush of the spray... Try to escape the day... And after all you will find out that it's all the same how many footprints you've left in the soil. Empty eyes defy these empty halls Empty faces examine empty walls Empty words thrown in empty streams Empty places are the end of empty dreams. To be a whisper on the breeze, to be a stranger on violent seas, To see the world through orphaned eyes could be a mission Behind tangerine skies. For there's no importance in a dream of posthume fame And I don't want to be a fugitive repatriated, watching these empty places...
One more time you find yourself huddled in silence. Nicotine mingles with a mimic's tear, tarnishing moments forlon... Remember the stages that you were compelled to wander Where ideas were devised, where the phantom of fame approached like a brief encounter. Try to evoke the day... But memories are cold comfort for the mourning result of a long-forgotten cause. Passionless words defy the stage no more There's no applause, just a drunkard asking for encore A silent audience of dust and desperation As you remember certain faces that once engaged these empty places. With the fading light came desperate thoughts, as if the ghost of an urge rode a blatant breeze. And the wet ink on the paper blurred under your tears, just like water's clearness in the rush of the spray... Try to escape the day... And after all you will find out that it's all the same how many footprints you've left in the soil. Empty eyes defy these empty halls Empty faces examine empty walls Empty words thrown in empty streams Empty places are the end of empty dreams. To be a whisper on the breeze, to be a stranger on violent seas, To see the world through orphaned eyes could be a mission Behind tangerine skies. For there's no importance in a dream of posthume fame And I don't want to be a fugitive repatriated, watching these empty places...
