Meant by Ian Jade
With aching feet and tired minds,
the diversities of London crowded
in the subways and in the streets.
Confused tourists are filling the gaps,
the girls are carrying bags,
and everybody just wants to go home.
London, a place of misfortune for the simple,
a place of mischievousness, but a home nonetheless.
Everything included except time.
Gladly leaving for their own homes,
tired of rageous roads, honking horns,
they return to nothingness.
And with an empty heart and sad mind,
I sit here on my bed without answer,
and all I have is worries.
Untrusted, they took my Paris away
Those brown eyes are closed shut,
And the red colour of her hair is fading
I must abide, I have signed my death sentence,
And leave for London tonight
Filthy fingers, they took my Paris away
My wings have been cut off,
And I remain a saint, but I cannot fly
I have nothing left but time to wait,
And I wait, I wait for the switch to flip
A scourge, they took my Paris away
The sea is storming,
And I close my eyes
Your visage was lost in the London mist,
And I let go in a free fall toward the skies
In search of Elysian
the source of inspiration
my words are broken
Where is the simplicity
head on the rocks
be gone complicity
Inaudible melodies
beautifying fairy tales
reason underestimated
Unthinkable art
becomes breathtaking
stupidity specify deviance
