I feel so blue and broken,
Not by thousand of miles,
In search of treasure of specific kind,
To give me a new mind.
But by hitting me underneath mine.
To unearth the truth, I wore unkind,
Instead of running the last mile,
I enslaved to snowy hill,
The purest amongst all kind,
But the deceiver of all eyes.
A fool of myself beneath the sky,
Rushed to enjoy every kinds,
And no mind of racing more miles,
I decided to live as snowy hill.
The times passed and snow melt away,
I found standing on dangerous mine,
And cliffs offered me no way,
That paralyse all my life.