Maybe the snow will melt,
Maybe spring will come…
But the streetlights burn for years,
And the window’s cold as stone.
Asphalt’s silent, concrete’s dumb,
The city breathes, but out of time.
I count the dull sound, one by one,
Step by step — just a sign.
Maybe… maybe…
Can’t change the grey day.
Maybe… maybe…
Light won’t save us anyway.
Maybe — not for sure, no,
Ashes in the morning glow.
Maybe it will all repeat,
If you trust, it all will bleed.
Maybe sadness fades away,
Clouds will drift and go…
But my pocket’s empty, grey,
Rain is frozen on the clock.
Shadows reach for me again,
Echo whispers: “No one’s blame,
Just the time upon the wall,
Just we’re not us — just a dream.”
Maybe… maybe…
Can’t change the grey day.
Maybe… maybe…
Light won’t save us anyway.
Maybe — not for sure, no,
Ashes in the morning glow.
Maybe it will all repeat,
If you trust, it all will bleed.
Glass. Metal. Silence.
Night is long, spring is one.
Step. Silence. Light. Shadow.
Maybe…
Maybe…
Be…
Maybe the snow will melt…
Maybe spring will come…
But I stand, and nothing’s new,
Nothing ever really comes.
Maybe…
Maybe…
