In which you want to dance but the song has no rhyme, 
You want to fly, but the wings has broken, 
You want to run but the legs seems swollen, 
You want to walk but wearing a shoes has been forgotten. 
Donning a dress but unfit the measurement. 

You want to build a world, but there's no tree,
You want to taste a soup, but you get a spoon with a big hole.
You want to eat chicken, but they gave you a runny blood from the meat, 
You get a fish, it's okay to be raw, cause you can treat it like a sushi, or even kilau, 
But they gave you a rotten one. 

You think life is lining up behind you, 
Always following you, 
But it has been moving away, 
for which they think you are a leader, 
Now should be a follower,
Or even a beggar.
Does this means despair?

The city lit, are experiencing darkness, 
You want a light, but you don't have the source, 
You see the Cactus holding a torch, 
Intense dislike arising from that soul, 
And you stay still not even moving, 
Struggling looking for a stones, 
As science revealed friction between stones, 
Could elicit a fire, 
And a fire could bring you light, 
A light to lead the life to line up behind you, 
AGAIN. 

Is it just an ennui? 
Cause, it should be me and thats belong to me. 
Or... 
Just because that cheap and shameless tears,
then, its yours? 

The lovely adultly that should be appreciated,
But somehow, I miss those childhood attention. 
But, a Rose has a torn, and it will tear up ungenuinity

BUT.. 
It's a fire from the heart 
And  Satans love to break some peace..
but, if you don't .. you go back to stanza 1 and trying to considerate like in stanza 2, 
Or running away and concealed the flaws, would be a better option? 

But, thats belong to me.
.
.
.

But  cactus can live in a desert and the torn is even sharper,
and you, just a red rose, with an easy to break torn. 
.
.
Oh God, please keep me sane.