Don't know what I've grown into
what I've grown into is a product of my past
the past remains silent
but the silence in my head kills me day by day
this daily silence puts me to sleep,


and I weep, when do I wake up when does it stop
so I can breathe again, that's when I run and hide
when go into a dream...


Broad day light doesn't save me from the night
the night in my head, but instead,
instead I sleep, and weep about tomorrow
when I will sleep again and feel the pain
and wait in vain until it's over


when my eyes open
and I wake up


hopefully....


Out of this dark dream