Night. Cold.
The breath of wind…
What am I lookin’ for?
Why do I live indeed?

The freedom smells
Like pouring rain,
Like foretells,
Like chopped off chain…
Forgotten pain...

But it’s impossible to reach
The freedom, anyway…
We have no choice, no point each
And so we have to go away…

Настроение сейчас - cry... depression... wanna DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
В колонках играет - Deep Purple - Steve Morse - "Contact Lost"