Lord, what's the price of naivety today
That one painted with the soul, not the brush
Writers never lie,they have already read all the lines in your palm
Then sat down on paper all they have seen so others could understand the mystery
Writers are ever so lonely ,no one kisses them ,hug them or offer them a helping hand to lead them through the blue dreams
In the sweeping victory

So, what's the price of loneliness, Lord
Through my thoughts raining with metals
You loved her and still set her free
Jaws are painfully clenching in the dark
I always thought you will understand&forgive
But no, the world cannot be contained in a single answer
A single question or poem

Lord, have you ever thought about the price of my passing by
The verses are just a synthesis of mystical and rebellion
Life enters indirectly as a filtered shade
And again you look at me as if I were just an exhibition
Eyes are embers ,falling stars,but not a clear sky
I know I'll be a sinner once more

Therefore,I am guilty for breathing
Light surrounds me but still I can't get up
I am helplessly kneeling
Nobody will ever announce my arrival
Lord, should I pay my ascension with these broken arms or my tears?