In the canteen of life sitting, I sip old dark ale
The walls looking at me with their knotty eyes
I try to take the risk, and take a smile at life
But it still remains as cold as ice
I summon you, spirits of the light
To this yellowed mug of oblivion
Why do not come thee, over the night
And give me some antagonistic freedom
In the memory, only faces and place remain
Shreds of words leak, sometimes I hear laughter
Sometimes those mugs and their friendly clatter
But there’s no ale to quench the thirst of longing heart
20.02.2007
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