Don`t tell a poor man,
about the fields of gold ...

Don`t tell the youngsters,
there's nothing left to hold ...

Don`t tell the blind man,
about the colors of the rising sun ...

Don`t tell a lovers heart,
the end has just begun ...

Who gives you the right,
for justifing it all,
you took my pride,
my liberty,
my hope,
which might catches my fall ...

Don`t tell the restless,
which way to go ...

Don`t hate me,
for what I`ve done and know ...

Don`t tell me,
it comes as surprise ...

The time has come,
when the truth comes back from lies ...

Call it fate,
`cause so it should be ...

The party`s over,
no more wishful thinking,
for you and me ...

Copyright: Achim Tober