No more then I can see the course of the next day,
Do I know if you will be here.
The next day is tomorrow,
But will you be here as the next day,
Here tomorrow?

Oh my dreams of happiness are clouded by the reality of things,
I know that truth hurts like hell, but hell is below
Looking up at you and me.
We are never sure if our feelings are test of faith in the God above,
Or a trick of light,
Just an illusion of mirrors.

My hunted house,
My heart.
Where we lived so long ago,
My heart is now dusty, and rusty.
Do I dare to make some use of it again?