The red marks turned into black and then vanished,
But I did n0t understand the bitter part of it.
When you realize what the time taught you
Just like childhood, t’was already all lost.
Once I lost a gift and I replaced that with a kind.
But the inside rumbles and the face faked.
Now tell me, why there is a value to all that wraps,
rather than the one that is wrapped.
It’s not the final destination that I am afraid of.
Even it’s not the rebels whom I care about.
But it’s me and my insidious whom I adopt and I fear.
Never again it says, that you are driving an engine without back gear.