ŞARKI SÖZÜ
I remember the endless longing
that called inside of me
from fountains of expression
trying to break free.
Nothing left to say
when the walls give way.
Still I can faintly recall
the subtle purity
of youthful inspiration
and insecurity.
Nothing left to say
when the child finds his way.
Pride and the drive that started the dream
turned in time to an endless obsession.
Caught in a vicious circle of compulsion.
