Empty Thoughts

On a little hill at the top of nowhere
There is standing a mill with large stony stairs
Every stone is a statue made of blood and sweat
And the ruptures are the mistakes we have made

When sitting on the lowest of stones
I can only hate the ones putting up their crowns
I whisper to the wind, it blows my whispers away
I think I can't climb so I will rather stay

Do I have to destroy to find a better place to be?
Not really, but I can't ask anyone to help me
Every wound burns me, every sunray makes me pale
If I were a book, my pages would be empty with no tale

I don't want to change it, but I hate this all to death
I am a broken puppet, that doesn't want to be repaired
I love dreaming my dreams, but I am afraid to fall asleep
I have nothing to say though I write a letter no one will read

Her tears are a sham, her laughter is a yell
Of vultures approaching to hear the final knell
Pretending, demanding, lying and forswearing
Her daily cup of tea, the mask she is wearing
Heaven gates are opened for such thugs and thieves
Just take a gun, use it and we'll have a deal

When finally they took their shiny crowns
I can only sigh as I see the golden thrones
They sit on to feel like they know and can all
Will they be thrown down, will they ever fall?

The moon is blind as the zephyr caressing my hair
Menaces are destroying me as I see them everywhere
Between bushes, between clouds, between hugs and even between smiles
You wonder why I cry, don't you see that beauty is dead and vile?