Lyrics
Thatīs been the story of a man
with a fortress on his brain.
Beyond its walls there was a world,
but in this world there was nothing but pain,
or just an illusion
made of confussion,
aliens, stars and ships to fly,
but the only flying object was his mind.
He was a friend of mine.
He was one of a kind,
and now he is tied on a bed,
nothing on his eyes but death.
A plastic sound feeding his veins.
Not a body, but a jail,
an empty jail where no one stands,
schizophrenicīs last stay.
A winter day
snow was covering his face.
He lost everything he had.
That day happened the crash.
She was thirty years old
and the wind blew so cold,
so cold that froze his sanity,
loosing the sense of reality.
It was the visit time.
No one there but my friend and I.
I hold his hand as I used to
when my spirit dressed in blue.
Pulled out the sound and blew inside.
A heart attack and my friend died.
The doctors never knew the truth.
I only did what I had to do.
Thatīs been the story of a man
with a fortress on his brain.
Beyond its walls there was a world,
but in this world there was nothing but pain,
or just an illusion
made of confussion,
aliens, stars and ships to fly,
but the only flying object was his mind.
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