Winter Hymn

I feel like I’m crying Still I use syringe to fill my eyes with drops of fire Drops of fear That grows on me when being left without control Iatric mould To squeeze it out I breathe the stuffy martyr’s air Four winter seasons every year Maze isn’t maze (I’m) With the rainbow under my feet And a cuckoo behind my back Will I ever get out of the woods Yes, I will Yes, I will I’ll break the loop