Mouvelle&Liv

Outside the rain meets precious soil
My window's open wide
Soft wind is ruffling sleeping trees
The village's fucking pride

Behind the peaceful atmosphere
I reckon a façade
See spite and murder everywhere
which might be just too hard

Just what's your problem, so they ask
And hold me by the wrist
I'm fine, I say , though mentally
I'm sending them the list.

They'll remain happy as I can't
Be the one clearing the fog.
Just someday my window shall be open
And I'll be smelling smog.

Liv