The thread

You never open up the doors that showed the play.
Under this sky of fallen angels who do you have left?
Guilty by a crimson nothing and false allusion.
Ask yourself how you can tread so lightly.

Don't you just want to run slowly away?
To a place where unwanted messages is always sent away.
Where crying turns into joy for the ones in need.
Don't wake up in a dream where you work on a thread with yourself as the puppet.

Promise the sad painting that you will paint its heart to live with you.
Make the clock stand against the past and rush for the future.
Even if nobody is with you remember I am with you.

Don't dare to say that you don't care above the ashes.
Your voice is heard among the farthest of clouds.
Behind stitched eyes you can see what can be.
So start the thread with new color in your platonic value.