My eyes are open, but I don't look beyond
I look within, wish to be in touch with myself
switch on the inner light, what's there to see?
What is it that's penetrating me?
My eyes are open, but I don't look beyond
I look within, wish to be in touch with myself
switch on the inner light, what's there to see?
What is it that's penetrating me?
My eyes are open, but I don't look beyond
I look within, wish to be in touch with myself,
what is it that's penetrating me?
It's longing, the longing
like a blind man, longing to see
because he does not just look for anybody.
We see ourselves.
Some people ask how time passes by,
I wonder how time is formed,
that accompanies moments of living
full of longing
longing that comes and goes,
comes and goes.
Some people ask how time passes by,
I wonder how time is formed
that accompanies moments of living
full of longing
longing that comes and goes,
that rises and falls
with my perception of this world.
From a cowardly hero, that doesn't dare to talk,
because bravery has been long missing.
I'm missing the longing,
I'm yearning for longing.
Like a blind man wishes to see
because he does not just look for anybody.
We see ourselves.
I'm missing the longing,
I'm missing the longing,
I miss the longing.