I rest my head on stone Counting stars until I lose my way Wondering how far and near I've been And next to nothing I am
Just to rest in peace once again Seems like a simple thing All of these mysteries I'm swiming in Whoah - nothin
And I look to the right Only to see what is there My trembling hand reachin again For the door again Only to find it openin from within
Within this place I'm in I watch and listen Learning the subtleties of whats been And been taken What I've got to give Cannot be stolen No matter how many illusions be thrown
A book of words and a poem today My heart broken and healed again Neither a drowning victim Nor a Saint Samaritan I know my integrity May haunt Haunt them all Again and again
And I look to the right Only to see what is there My trembling hand reachin for the door again Only to find it openin from within From within
I rest my head upon a flower bed One ear gently to the ground Listening - Voices - Distant Far off murmurs of sweet angels singing
"[...]um dos primeiros sintomas de psicose é o de que a pessoa sente talvez que se está a tornar psicótica. É outra armadilha chinesa. Não se pode pensar nisso sem se tornar parte disso. Pensando na loucura XXXXXXX escorregou por degraus até à loucura. Desejaria tê-lo ajudado."