Like a child without a home.

Like a dog without a bone.

Like a love without a heart.

Like an endless spiral, that keeps on turning.

Like a clock without it's hands.

Like a sleep without a dream.

Like a planet without it's sun.

Like a broken love, that keeps on burning.

Like spring without a fall.

Like a sky without its stars.

Like a bird without a song.

Like a lost soul, that keeps on searching.

Fate was my future, fate was my past.

Shrouded with corruption, which burnt out to fast.

Making the fortunes, making the mistakes.

Years of decadence, dealt me this fate.

Like a tree without its leaves.

Like a mother without a son.

Like a line with no beginning.

Like a dying man, on the battlefield of life.

Reflections in the mirrors, a hall of deceit.

Everyone I looked too, but I was looking back at me.

Lost all the fortunes, predicted the mistakes.

Another tequila sunrise, before it’s too late.

(Photography by Gary Peters)