(i silently weep driving my car back home. i see all the people as dead skin driving their cars in this endless traffic, in this endless avenue that'll eventually lead me to a place that has been unknown but somehow familiar to my heart)
it's fucking hard.
the way you push those things against my head.
it's hard.
tough.
deadly hard.
it's worse than anything i've ever felt falling over my shoulders, those bricks, those tons of wrong letters, wrong and misspelled words, they're all gone, i swear
but the things you throw against me
god!
it's fucking hard.
the weight of this world
lies in its ten percent
of brain
we use
but the rest of the knowledge we offer ourselves
live insecure
in our hands to be taken
to be tied down
as if we were mere soldiers marching to an endless and pointless war
the war of the whole world.
i die
in this war
and i'm born again
into this world
and i'm free again whenever i sing my song.
this song was written a thousand years ago
or it will be written a hundred years from now.
i really don't know what will happen but i fly away when the high pitch finds me
i fly for it can't fly along with me
it can only
follow
me.
how hard it is to be followed by such an angelical sound.
i sigh
at their feet
i can't take it i say, you can make it they say
and they put me in this jail
that's kept in this ship that sails overseas
that's on its way to the north
that is pretending to miss its way
and i'm in it to be lost
get lost, they say
you will make it, they say.
if life wasn't fair it wouldn't be life, i say
if life is fair then shut up, they say
and then i'll hide my tears
for they hurt the passenger's view
and i'll gently wave till the morning
for the souls that've spent some of their precious time with me
in the shore.
