Empty hallways, long and grey
Wind ruffling through the curtains
Left chairs, faceing the cold Monitors
Somewhere is a ringing,
but no ears, for it to be heard.
So, is it even making any sound?

Surrounding the building, are wet trees,
since the rain is still hammering,
the sunshine won´t dry them off.
Information you can still get,
but confusion is hiding behind egos.

Sincere she keeps the fingers working
to create something, not much is lurking.
The year is already seven behind,
marking names next to numbers.
Accociated it is with sadness,
so dull from tempting to bless.

Cleaned they don´t need to be,
this ain´t a house to live in.
Blue is the color of the skin,
facade it is to call here.
Blue it is, the windows keeping.