Life is a game

and on gods we put the blame

but willingly we play from beginning to the end

Is it so intend

Is it reason

why some season

Creatore sent us here

and our boat reached pier

But now so thight are knots

they keep the boats in certain spots

from reaching sea

where would  be free

the spirit of these beings

Or is it just false dreamings

when ready isn`t sailor

until he`s learned to taylor

his own suite

suitable and cute

for celeprations

in all lifes occasions

in painfull birth

in life that joys and hurt

in story never ending

which suppose to be us sending

many times again

into this rain

Or under shining sun

having even something fun

and without rain

would existence be in vaine

Secretly hides our feeling

and it is so appealing

that we come from same sours

and return there some day ofcourse

with inside us bright flame

and allways ready for new game

which actually is real and true

and every time surprises you

But there you learn

what do you earn

when on the seas you sail

and for rudder fits not tail...