Sometimes I walk among the living dead
And I die a thousand lives
And when I come back to life
I talk to them and I laugh with them
And I love them and I fall in love with them
And when I turn back to see
I see all these faces
Of people that I do not know
And I don’t know their stories
Yet they have told me everything
And I heard
But I do not know them
They are strangers
And then there is myself
The strangest of them all
For they have seen me
And never loved me
And never fallen in love
And I am a wisp they all love
I am a stranger whom I do not know about



There is a train that passes by
The roof of my mind
Where the parables of history
The present victories
And the future decay
There are no passengers but only travellers
With a destination which is far away
They sit together, huddled in
Far apart from each other
With the hollow of their faces
They gape at the door
When will it open
When will it close
That is a riddle… They often misquote
The steam engine bustles
The train moves
In a solitary path it keeps its pace
At night time the stories rage on
At day break worlds collide
There is a question somewhere
But no one figure out why

There is a train that crosses over
The rooftop of my mind