It's an age think I guess....

It approaches, and like wind, runs straight through me,

slightly touching my skin as an unfaithful game of deceive.

It cannot lie to me, but no answer is given also,

Keeps on flowing in, unstoppable and unshakable.

And in that red book of mine, my secrets rest,

It cannot reach it, it doesn't seem to know how.

So my lies are my own, my colors are its tone,

Holding back the truth, Faithfull to none.