Prove Of Love/Chaos' Lover/Tides Of Time.

Give me any prove, prove that I am alive
That I still survive at this chaos (myself built)
That I still wish to carry on
Give any prove, some prove of love, my dear.
Because I cannot see it, as I seek for it
As I wander, as I run, as I dream away.

Seems like I am a chaos' lover.
Seems like I am talking alone.
Seems like I am swimming in depression.
Seems like insanity already consumed me
and I am searching for more,
Without realizing it is already here,
on my hands, inside myself,
Inside this empty chest which speaketh unto you.

A chest hurt by the tides of time,
Begging for this madness to over, now or never
I will not take anymore, very soon
If I dance to the sound of silence,
Will it prove I am going wild totally away of fun?
Bitterness is entering this story
on a way so tragic, dramatic, not even close to fantastic.
All I need are answers and to meet happiness and freedom again.
Because it is real: I got lost.
A death caused by tired lungs.