The Hardhearted Stranger
(Ricardo Hoffmann)

We strive for new figments of hope
And you’re waiting for strength to ignore
Those wintry oriels of your resigned mind
Sometimes the steps are stepless
And the world’s paths without direction
Like a passenger as an accessory
Of confusion

The faith is a friend of silence
It avoids clear eyes of prophecy
But weakness rules those mad skulls
Of the knowing ones
Drunken appears their tortured soul
Their words are pale mouths without noise
Like a morass in its damp’n greedy palace

Musty rain covers nightly metropolis’ streets
Filled with claustrophobic, misty emptiness
We are the misery, which sank into unbelief
Drunken we crawl out of our dark places of refuge
Where we passionately sucked those hopes
Out of blood-red goblets

The dawn appears like the dusk
As a hardhearted stranger
A hardhearted stranger
Without awakening