Chasing the morning twilight,
And chasing it up to the devil's stye.
Those were the days in the past,
Days of the miracles are over.
Footsteps of haunting past
Chasing me with precession.
Lying down alone in darkness,
I wait to hear the breath
Of the midnight postman,
As he descends from the seven skies.
The owl inside me
Shakes its wings in fear,
The fear of foreseeing the omen of destiny,
But nothing really happens.
Another night, another day lost from my life,
Lost from the universe,
Lost forever.
Waking up middle of the night do I find myself crying?
Miracles do happen.
