I am stramgram - Wooden gun

There seems to be some moment Like islets
I’ll try to preserve
While shadows they grow taller
I disappear and only observe
Pictures trapped behind my eyes
Shutters closed in silence
Evening walks and birthday surprises
After class first taste of french science
Every memory pulls you out from that fog
Don’t overtake It’s his blindspot
You’ll never wake
And I’ll stay up
Now and then you’re coming back
A flickering neon from a ghost town
Then I stop to not lose track
There’s a burnt field on my island
Decades keep on passing by
Deep rooted, weighing on the shoulders
But still I go back in time
With nothing but your wooden gun
Every memory pulls you out from that fog
Don’t overtake
It’s his blindspot
You’ll never wake
And I’ll stay up

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