| Mixed feelings locked in | ||
| a coloful box. | ||
| I never understood, | ||
| was the person with the key happy, | ||
| and what does power have to do | ||
| with love, anyway? | ||
| Not including people, | ||
| the world ot material things is | ||
| pouring over me in slow motion, | ||
| and like in a slowly rising flood | ||
| my feelings are drowning | ||
| helplessly screaming for help, | ||
| but what comes out | ||
| are millions of smudged water bubbles | ||
| full of the fragile light | ||
| of my simple truth. | ||
| The colors of the carpet on the wall | ||
| are my childhood. | ||
| It is now outlived in the past, | ||
| lying buried in peace | ||
| in a foreign country | ||
| far beyond the iceberg ocean. | ||
| There I have a sister, and | ||
| she possesses a colorful box and | ||
| in the box is the key of love. |