The Start

The ghost of our lives

Sometimes comes back

It suffocates you until you die

The drifting clouds

Always covered the sky

In a grey tint of sadness

But only weakness 

Brought the sun to hopelessness

As happiness never ceased to decrease

Only palm trees could ever reach me

It was a prison painted in black

Part of a generational story full of crack

In the 30's there was just darkness

As light could only be seen by the ones went on strike

Despite the fact that time was running out

We painted the prison grey 

Hoping that the light of day

Could bring out some medicine for the depressed

The ghost brought me back to life

By striking my life to get back to black

Like a hitman on its way to its target

It left me with regret

The regret that the best time of my life

Was behind a curtain where time resides

But it is okay I still have my watch

I wear it now everytime I get down

This is the time of my life

That I will call The Start