Updated: May 3
They had to hide in bunkers, in basements, in search of safety.
They had to run- from their homes, from their heart,
with tens of thousands, in search of peace.
They were faces- indifferent of their differences,
in despair, in grief, in search of hope.
They were us.
Our faces.
Life is not always a whimsical dream- sea breeze caressing your cheeks, playing with your hair, feet dipped in sand, cold waves washing...
Songs are mostly written out of personal emotional turmoils. Some songs only make sense when we have the context from the writer's life....
When I pass those huge hospital buildings on my train journeys, I remember my friend who studies there. I haven't talked to her in ages....
--FIW