It's a bird. (no)
It's a plane. (no)
It's a dream flying by in black and grey, and now it's gone.
Chains are forged to hold back, to keep in place, to keep things from moving forward.
Chains are made to be broken also, to be shattered.
Liberate.
I crave fresh air, fresh sights and fresh thoughts, I'm tired of this grey city full of dust, full of dirt and ugliness. There are too many bad memories living here, crawling in the shadows and waiting to pounce when i least suspect them to. This city is filled to the brim with betrayal, blood and black skies bringing in rain, but even the rain can't wash everything away.I need a break, I need to break, break up with myself, my life, my past and my memories,
I need a fresh start somewhere far away from this place.
Maybe I'll move to another country.
Would England be far enough to tear me from my past?
Maybe...maybe I'll try.
If I move away, would it still find a way to crawl back into my life by the cracks and crevices that I couldn't see, that I thought too small to care about? For some strange reason, I'm pretty sure that even if it was the Berlin Wall that was between this city and I, memories would still find a way to reach me.
Oh well...The land across the water is worth a try.
Good morning Britain.
I'll be seeing you.
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