Phoenix - His sofa, a balancing knife

Phoenix - His sofa, a balancing knife

Contrasts on a paper from the mind of a prodigy
An outcast, fulfilling self-inflicted prophecies
With a life he'll concentrate on when this is over
But from now on he's alone, contemplating on his sofa

His sofa - standing alone
Standing strong, the place that his life got stranded on
It was handed on to him, from generation to generation
From father to son, a sofa decorated with decorations
It came in a package, it was wrecked and shackled
And not like it matters but it came partially damaged
Beautiful arm rests, carved combining soul with matter
And sculptured flowers looking like growing patterns
His life, the sofa, giving pleasureful riches
He built it up, trusted it, grew simultaneously with it
The sofa settled in his mind, grew stronger every day
He slept his day's away cause he couldn't stay awake
A future not meant for him, crossing his path, it was
Nothing in fact, so he asked if there was something he lacked
and God responded back with an ironical laugh...

Waking up, he realised reality, received consciousness
It was the cause of his troubles, it was common sense
His sofa - the reason why he troubled commonwealth
His family showed condolence, but they lacked with compliments
and his confidence slacked...

Pitch black, a sofa, once filled with pals
So he shooked his eyes... and the sofa took his life
The crooked lies, a never-ending continuing fight
A bottomless pit... a blown out inner light
Some contrasts on a paper from the mind this prodigy
An outcast, fulfilling self-inflicted prophecies
With a life he'll concentrate on when this is over
But from now on he's alone, contemplating on his sofa

his eyelids are heavy, his hands are heavy
his life is empty as he falls asleep for the last time...