Enough time, enough crap enough. I'm fed up with you, bored until the end of life; your secret words are no secrets at all. This is not the TV this is not the beautiful movie town, enough of talking enough of crying enough. I'm going to move to an other distant city maybe I can find a little bit of peace inside my mind, a scenery of a good landscape without your dark presence, without all those movements, without nonsense's enough of dark smiles. Enough of crap. Enough.

 

Leaves are falling dancing, embracing leaving, your pathetic figure of an angel into the paradise is falling too. Dancing faking, embracing failing, your pleasure your fast movement your shinning way of one night; leaves are falling, failing. And your presence is final special, a special hole inside the black tone of night.