some things are just not meant for knowing

like a light feather's touch
on a rosy and frostbitten cheek
from side to side in circles
a working class hand moves
with weight of a heart made from lead

where have all the flowers gone
a dream of crossing the misty ocean
is resting in a sad lovers arms
another one once again begging
on his bare feet in the sand
the storm is blowing fresh breathes
tonight and only tonight

the promises are easily blown away
light as they are made
a lonewolf standing there with
arms outstretched into the night
hoping the doubts will disapear
with the last rays of the sun

finding faith is a difficult thing
and even more in one anothers fairytale
so enchanting and so divine
and so it is in a lovers will
she see his lips move and reads the letters
but the lions roar so loud that
stubborn like a child she pretends
the words was never really said