I take your words and put them in this wooden box
where lies all lies and hopes like timeless clocks
Every splinter digs through my flesh and bones
Shown, the feelings of a broken love, never fully born
Under scornful lullabies and pleasant suffering
I venture inside the lies, no winds, shattered wings
With flag in hands and heavy scented wine
I preach my convictions on your land so divine
But the cannons... Oh, sweet cannons of hypocrisy!
Shooting on every damn direction the eye can see!
Not only you're scarring this warior of a man
You are damaging your very own precious land!
So tell me, tell me how does it feel to know
the consequences of destroying a bond that clearly showed
trust, passion, comfort and all things deeply desired
and just simply letting pure love go to waste... go to waste
Yet, here I am, the fool singing his own foolsong
drowning in sorrow I've dearly come to know
I'm just a tattered bottle, nothing more, nothing less
drifting on endless seas of broken promises.