My fingers are dry leaves
That fall from my hands
My body is frail
Like an ardent timberland
But my claws and teeth
As I dropped my defense
I have no more questions;
I have no demands.

My mind is a wasteland
Invaded by you
Make it your kingdom
Worth traveling through
Cut the trees clear the country
Leave a permanent trace
And make this land
A nicer place.

Turned on the heating
And locked up the door
It's the same old pattern
As the years before
The last little hedgehogs
say when will you learn
that your bristles
Won't save you
When your demons return

Should change my old habits
Put on my new shoes
And walk towards
And not away from you
My mind is a wasteland
And I have no maps
Could you be a compas
To guide my steps?

Could you guide my steps?