Missing life. Empty streets. Cold hearts.

Covering your face what you once criticised on stranger's faces.

Missing love. Empty hearts. Cold air.

Covering the flowers in your heart, the strings of my guitar.

Missing music. Empty stages. Cold rooms.

Covered ears, listening to scary news, not to music anymore.

Missing passion. Empty beds. Cold skin.

Covering all lu...

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Music floats
Through my veins,
Brings me back to
What I am.
I sing and sing again
To kill the silence outside.
My songs, directly from my heart,
My hard chords,
A resistance
Of all what's forbidden.
My passion resists
In the middle of sounds
And chaos.

©️ By Magical whispers 

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