Martyr

There’s a bed by a window and on that bed he gently lies
The window is slightly open, through it a breeze flies
He’s tired of inspiration, no longer seeks to be free
Lost in desperation, he can see no more
I’m gonna live, a martyr I cannot be
I’m gonna live, simple wisdom and me
And so we live this strange fire
Hoping that we don’t tire until we see
All we can be
One day lost in emotions, one day heavy with pride
One day to contemplate devotion, on another afraid to go outside
Can’t he remember all he was fighting for
January, December time matters no more …
He’s standing on the horizon watching the doves fly
Hoping for resurrection he breathes a fatal sigh
Then he remembers all of those years gone by
The fire turns to ember, he lays down to die …