There are these feelings slumbering in me.
Sometimes they wake up from their hibernation,
Do good and do bad for a while,
And create a world of difficult relations.
They inspire my heart, but drain my soul,
They fuck with my head but won´t let me go,
They raise me high just to blare me down.
How can feelings make you their slave,
When they are supposed to be a part of you?
Can you really enslave yourself
Or is there someone else doing it for you?
But gladly feelings need food to survive,
So they starve again in the body I call my own.
I can bury them once again
In the cave of my ribcage they call their home.
Biografie
