Before the curtain calls.

How I long for these city lights.
For the lie the silent river might tell.
How I long for a mystery, for a door to open.
how true my desire for the wind, blowing wildly in my face.

Often I lay, surrounded by gloom, thinking of that picture.
the crisp breeze, I can feel it.
I can almost taste the freedom and grasp the happiness.
I can paint all the details if only you asked, color the shadows if you wanted me to.
And still it's forbidden and banned.
I'm not allowed and I can't.
But I will even if that's the last thing I do before my final breathe.