The rain is loud now, As if a giant feet arises from the clouds To step on the river under the bridge of my heart And disturb it in such a way That the sails of ships bend, And the water touches the bridge from below, Tickling it to sorrow… The rain is loud now, But actually, it has always been like this. You were there once, And I never felt it. But now, All there is Is this sorrow That tickles me from inside, As if it wants me to laugh, Yet doesn’t let me At the same time…
Some people cry dirt
And we think their tears have no pain.
But there is a soul buried so low
That it's invisible.
There is a soul buried so low
That the rotting smell won’t surface
Even after the soul dies.
There is a soul buried so low
That what comes from it
Is only the black sludge that it rests in,
Crawls in,
Screams to be saved before it is gone forever.
But those people cannot be saved
Because they don’t hear the scream
And will realise it too late
That they have no soul anymore.
Some people cry dirt
And we think their tears have no pain.
And we cannot be more right.
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