Vienna, my home.
My bittersweet symphony.
I’ll always come back to you.
Often with a burden on my heart.
The marks of the past are everywhere.
It has left too many traces. The heart still echoes.
My beloved ones are waiting for me.
The outward elegance crumbles like dust.
A chilling cold reveals itself.
Shines from the walls of historical time.
Guests are tempestuous.
A memory in an album is all that remains.
No tales from a stranger.
No one unveils their heart.
Fame and glory.
Enough to keep diving into the shadows that hang on me like lead?
I often long for moments to part again and return back in time.
