Spirit is like a finger in the paint of life

I'm writing something at your door

You have to come out to read what was written

At your door stands a person who looks like you

No sign - no letter - no message

Movement is a color and time a shape



To focus on - it needs time

To leave the own creation

Is a way to feel about sentences

Placed in your heart

Accepted as a law

To break your will - to give a choice

Which paint to use - which paint you use



To color the world

From outside the house

Of black and white nightmares

Planted long ago by the ones

Without a home in their hearts

They never read the message

Written on their doors

They never crossed the threshold

So the world outside is yours!



I'm writing something at your door

You have to come out to read what was written

At your door stands a person who looks like you

To focus on - it needs time

To leave the own creation

Planted long ago by the ones

Without a home in their hearts

And they never read the message

Written on their doors

They never crossed the threshold

So the world outside is yours!



And they never read the message

Written on their doors

They never crossed the threshold

So the world outside is yours!