A story that we see everyday,
A voice telling stories that will soon be forgotten.
Teams falling down, a result.
He speaks, I hear jingles.
Meanwhile a rusty singer spreads her wings,
trying to let the dust down.
Am I that dazed?
Watching the world from a distance,
waiting to be hit.
Is this the right way of living?
Always waiting for tomorrow,
for what comes next.
The world is an isolated cocoon,
where we feel immortal.
There’s no meaning to this artificial suffering,
this pain crafted through the centuries,
rules that don’t exist.
An inevitable crumbling, the illusion, the ruin.
In the littleness of my existence,
lost in space, caged in the middle of the galaxies, floating in the cosmic velvet.
I want to watch it the perfect aerial view.
Looking for a meaning to it all,
to my life, to my lust, to my love, locked somewhere.
Because it’s love that rules the world.
The smile of perfection on your face, the tenderness,
the end of every fear.
To get lost in something that’s just too much.
The wave. And then all I’d like to do is crying,
while you smile to me, while you mend my wounded skin.
My father runs the prison, beats in the cloudy evening.
Love is dead, I don’t know who I am,
the journey home looks never-ending,
white lights in the gray thin air,
violins tearing my empty heart apart.
Alone in the meaningful absence of another human being, cracking up in all these feelings,
building up the Wall, high, impenetrable, frightful.
Little glimpses of light are absorbed by steel, time, and the lies I tell myself.