I have wasted ten years in a [unverified] blind-fold
Ten-fold more than I've invested now in sight
I have traveled beveled mirrors in a fly crawl
Losing the reflection of a fight
But like a compass seeking North
There lives in me a still sure spirit part
Clouds of doubt are cut asunder
By the lightning and the thunder
Shining from the compass of my heart
I have flown the frantic flight of the bat-wing
And only known the dark because of that
I have seized death's door-handle
Like a fish out of the water
Waiting, waiting for the mercy of the cat
But like a compass seeking North
There lives in me a still sure spirit part
Clouds of doubt are cut asunder
By the lightning and the thunder
Shining from the compass of my heart
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