Artistic Condition

Tell me where am I suppose to go If everytime I dare to dream or dare to fly I'm always digging bloody daggers in my spine I'll bury you alive Cause... Everytime I contemplate The art of love We're armed with guns I'm left stunned with a new start Young lovers they only fall apart Tell me how am I suppose to feel If I know we will only leave this behind Just because the winds they'll turn And steal his eyes We're all just passing by... This concludes now Cause... Everytime I think about these times They'll change dreams rearranged to Suit the view we got ahead Young lovers they dream instead