A mislaid sense of self Deficient in a purpose A victim whose hurt is endogenous to the surface Culminating to profound death inside That child is all of us We subsist through this Empty casings We freeze No hope for warmth in this life Winter came And we didn't notice it We are degraded Through our eyes We can't help you Say the wise When can I be Everything that I'm supposed to be? At the end of my last day Cold covers forlornness inwardly Desolate winter claims me Look therein My worth debilitated Look outside The world spins with out me Now the lie reveals its lubricious hide Now the lie reveals its lubricious hide Never have I Dreamt of those paintings Only saw I stand at the gates and cry