in front of the paintings
where I used to sit
and stare
blowing my mind
each and every time
painted by a hollow soul
based in Hollywood
`ain`t it weird`
he used to say
Mr Hollyweird
a condemned soul
a stone cold face
left in the gutter
to soak up
what he had coming
a hollow soul
indeed
unaware
of what could have been
if he`s eyes could have seen
meanwhile
the snow rose fought its way up
to be seen
to be felt
in the rain
longing for the sun
in the pain
snow rose
a thousand stars
will never compare
to you
my snow rose
