The Flavor.

In the past again I drown,
All the guilty, all the blame on me now
All the weight of the world on my back,
It denies when I wonder if that will deliver me from this attack of anxiety.
It makes me cry when I desire the one thing I will ever have.

The flowers are blooming, the world in peace, the love is growing.
Matter in fact I am falling, I am in pieces, I am drowning.

Everything what is for me to feel good entirely,
for once in my life
Is an utopia, all from my imagination.

and this bittersweet flavor refuses to go away
and this flavor stays...