There are days when we get lost
Into windows of another dream
– A fraction of the cost
For a long line of never-did-try,
Yet even on the eve
Our bellies ache with unease.
Though when all is on the mantle,
We catch on, let to run
– Wild beasts become our name;
Visions flash before our eyes;
Wild nights turn into days of blood
Pumping through our passionate veins,
Which leave a strong mark upon
The rivets of our days,
Until, again, we call out
Through each windows we call our names.