How many devils stand in line, hungry for more, knocking at door
before a child first ever lie?
And why we think a kite can fly, but when it’s lost the kite will die?

The questions make love with the answers and born is the truth
and his twin,the lie.
There is only suffering related with the raise of our wisdom tooth,
said the man with a labyrinth in his left eye.

How many angels watch from high, tired from all, leaving you crawl
after a lover's first love crime?
And why we think a pray is light, but when we pray we close our eyes?

The rain makes love with the tears and born is the hope
and her echo, the pain.
I can’t think about anything more stubborn than a hangman’s rope,
said the man with a murder in his upper brain.