Your Private Hell
This is the place where none of us,
See the light of day.
Places would not be the same,
And we can't find the way.
Every second means something,
Noise is full of sense.
You would like to make it happen,
The sloth is so intense.
Morning, ceiling, empty walls
Stars are up a well.
And no one can say enough,
In your private hell.
Morning, ceiling, empty walls
There is no one to blame
Only you and only flame,
In your private hell.
Heat from blacktop, blinding gleams,
Snow came down again.
Time is running thru the sand,
With every passing day.
Things return like they used to be,
Back to square one.
Every first step down the road,
Hard to get it done.
Morning, ceiling, empty walls
Stars are up a well.
And no one can say enough,
In your private hell.
Morning, ceiling, empty walls
There is no one to blame
Only you and only flame,
In your private hell.
Autor(es): Sergey Gordeychik: