In my absolute erratic thoughts
When all the bad memories appear to be a crusader from a far land
Armoured in a shining suit of my remorse
I shall stand, anchored midst the falling embers of a cosmic thunderstorm
Where I will become a warrior
And I will bow down only in the chapel of my own fate
But till the time the mystery of my thoughts is unresolved
I will fight till my last sense
And when the crusader will return to its far land
The mist will rise from the comforting moonlight
Thus giving my thoughts a meaning.
All of my words 