When i was five, I already knew the ways of this world
Honesty is the best policy for inheriting a scorched earth
I was busy building reinforcements to prevent the mud slide of hopelessness
Every morning at breakfast time the chilling news are like being hit in the face
Feeling like the fuse is lit and I'm just making the flames go higher
And some days there are undeniable signs of spring in the air
The decomposed leaves of last autumn appear from under the snow together with toppled governments
When you're thirteen the name of the game is clear
The laughter of a pack of hyenas is worse than their bite
Don't mention it, I'm not used to grovelling
You'll have to lick your wounds somewhere on your own
The only thing an outstretched hand has to offer is a hit in the face
Sometimes one had to bite back to find out whether one was standing up or lying down
And some mornings I notice what others have yet failed to see
The lake is finally free of ice
Those are undeniable signs of spring