Dying men draw numbers in the air
You are not dreaming
Disillusioned savior search the sky
Singing past my hand
Hanging at my door
Voices in the air
Many shiny surfaces
Coming from the trees
Just to be this way
Oh, leave me where I am
I say goodbye to Joseph and Maria
Picking for a coin
Wanting just to show someone the way
I am not losing
Awake to understand
Clinging in the breeze
Doesn't anybody want the way
Not to plan my life
Dream to conquer little bits of time
Many other tiny worlds
From my fallen window, I still see them
Scuffle with the crowd to get their share
And fall behind their little bits of time
It is not seaming
Sympathetic harmony
Asking all the people passing by
If I am choosing
They think, they see another sky
Echo on the land
