Spirit is like a finger in the paint of life I'm writing something at your door You have to come out to read what was written At your door stands a person who looks like you No sign - no letter - no message Movement is a color and time a shape To focus on - it needs time To leave the own creation Is a way to feel about sentences Placed in your heart Accepted as a law To break your will - to give a choice Which paint to use - which paint you use To color the world From outside the house Of black and white nightmares Planted long ago by the ones Without a home in their hearts They never read the message Written on their doors They never crossed the threshold So the world outside is yours! I'm writing something at your door You have to come out to read what was written At your door stands a person who looks like you To focus on - it needs time To leave the own creation Planted long ago by the ones Without a home in their hearts And they never read the message Written on their doors They never crossed the threshold So the world outside is yours! And they never read the message Written on their doors They never crossed the threshold So the world outside is yours!