Silvery Track

Traces
Left behind everywhere
A cigarette butt, a lost glove
A single careless word
All those proofs
The detective of fiction finds
So shrewdly
In these planned arbitrariness

The insane obsession
Of wanting to be caught
‘Cause deep down the heart
Men are all murders
But by and large we are
Not brave enough to dare
And in self-constraint
We rather name the guilt ones

Oh wind, wild wind, hold out your hand to us
That slyly wipes out
The footprints of our steps
But land has no memory
And wind just feeds on dust
On pride of erased footsteps
And on dispersed clouds

On all blown away marks

To rushing wants
And blood’s inflated passions
Crawls the vainglory’s slug
With its plodding telltale pace
We're nothing but
Its silvery track
That tells
To no avail
Once I crept along on earth

Oh wind, wild wind, hold out your hand to us
That slyly wipes out
The footprints of our steps
But land has no memory
And wind just feeds on dust
On uprooted trees
And on all our wiped out marks

Oh wind, wild wind, hold out your hand to us
That slyly wipes out
The footprints of our steps
But land has no memory
And wind just feeds on dust
On pride of erased footsteps
And on dispersed clouds

On all blown away marks