Partisan

Ecstatic rumours of my comming
fearsome voices behind closed doors
in a narrow corner i stand
watching with a bleeding heartache

My private secret war
could finish any time i want
Would they wish the death of spirituality?

Ecstatic hisses within the wall
smell of rain, I'm airborne
I close my eyes, in vain
and wake up on clouds
a winter-illusioned funeral.

My private secret war
would finish every time I want
Unless they wish the death of spirituality