Biz Zum Hahnenschrei
If only I could buy the silence
From an antique shop
Near my heart
So close to freedom
Where all the doors are open
And doves can fly
To reach heavens
But my inner asylum
Suffocates me
The air smells like tortured flesh
Unbearable stillness
Holding a calendar of sacrifice
Over my shoulders
Those nude seconds slip
Into nowhere
My fragile faith will only be awaken
Up to the roosters first song
Biz zum Hahnenschrei
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