People die, sometimes suddenly,
People do not want to be dead.
But what the point of living hundred years,
What you hope to find and what to get?
War is endless, it is obvious
Maybe there is no war at all?
I do not know, I never looked so high
To see far, you must be tall.
Numbers, numbers, mixed in my head
Lots of useless and complicated thoughts
I have no order, and have no law
Nothing to keep in mental vaults
I thought I lived a long live
But I can't see the bottom point
Who knows what else I may find out
About he past and where's my spot
I need order and experience,
I need time, I have to wait,
And I will find the point of hundred years,
And i will get what really want.
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© Copyright: Дмитрий Раскалов, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110101401419
Свидетельство о публикации №110101401419
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