Melodic stanzas
   are symphonizing their way
   through your weary head
  
   To feed your distrust
   And fill its mouth with the desire
   to soulfully be one with your creation
  
   Not a subject to control
   you call upon a higer power
   for help and inspiration
  
   The crowd waits
   and turns their faces
   towards you expectantly
   you give them what they need
   But their useless criticism
   makes you die
   a bit more inside
  
   Not a subject to control
   you call upon a higer power
   for help and inspiration
  
   Oh, I swoon
   while loudspeakers play soft music
  
   Leaning
   over your fourtieth masterpiece
   You must have loved
   the colour of these violins
  
   I wish I knew you
   Your fit of insanity makes me sad
  
   I wish you knew
   your music was to stay forever
   And I hope....
  
   I have no clue
   if you know how much it matters
   And i hope....