I’ve strolled the desolate streets for years.
I thought I could have found myself one day.
After a broken dream,
In a flame of an illusion,
I flew in circles like a moth for all my life.
I burned and died down but a fire doesn’t begin to speak.
It’s not happening, my rose, it’s not happening
Waters are not reaching their banks
I’ve such a bizarre problem
That nobody knows its cure.
It’s not happening, my rose, it’s not happening
Waters are not reaching their banks
I’ve such a bizarre problem
That I kept to myself.
Colorful dreams never come true
Bright beautiful days gone never come back
Yellow leaves are crushed,
Lands become desolate,
Which we never notice when we stepped on them.
And nobody knows why I am not happy
It’s not happening, my rose, it’s not happening
Waters are not reaching their banks
I’ve such a bizarre problem
That nobody knows its cure.
It’s not happening, my rose, it’s not happening
Waters are not reaching their banks
I’ve such a bizarre problem
That I kept to myself.