It's more of a Friday night though it's a Sunday morn
for the Sun's so alive,filled with lights reborn
from my rusty bed a new hope came into life
a new care for honor but am I worth the fight?
or at least I'm to draw blood from my fist,
back to the trail where I fell dead with a dance and breeze
so that little by little I could retain courage to leave this fright,
whenever the ghost of her is drawn to my dimming sight...
twenty years are wasted in an ugly face of the Earth,
twenty years are spent on hardship,pains and dirt..
from that sixty seconds you were happy and were hurt,
it drives me so marked to now I need countless rebirth.
and how late was I to respond back to the scene of sense?
when the world's not even thinking about my new existence,
the Gods, mine not yours ,know how man should live
never does a mortal soul go divine when tries to forgive.