Rivers go through me, as if tomorrow is brought with one single green wave. For me, this green has no color, maybe it’s white, or maybe it’s black, I don’t really care. My senses are numb, my desire is weak. Everything that I knew is not and everything I’ll never know will still be here long after I’m gone.
I hear you see the sunset. You like to take it in and smell it on your lips. I have no recollection of these things, and life is bitter as is cold and time has no meaning here.
Flags out of feathers,
I keep asking the whethers,
And I’m all dressed in leathers
Under the weathers.
Words without bones,
Not written in stones,
Are covers for clones
And easy on tones.
Stars in the dark,
They forgot how to spark.
In this soup of quark,
I’m sailing the ark.
As a child, I was kinda obsessed with books and music, maybe a little too much for a white girl. As expected, I enjoyed my fair share of pop and also I shook my booty along with Beyonce (back when she was the queen of the bootylicious deliciousness).
As soon as I got my hands on a new phone, with bigger memory, I started piling music on it as if tomorrow will be the last day on Earth. So when Crash and Burn started this morning, it was a good excuse to relive those old goosebumps and feelings I had when I was an 8th grader. I remember the video, which is my personal favorite by Savage Garden, and I remember trying to explain my grandma what was the meaning behind the video.
I think you could have been an extraordinary friend.
A smile to keep, a helping hand.
But in the end you chose to step away,
Leaving me heartless, leaving me prey.
Your words have touched and maybe drowned a few,
How could I know? I wish I knew
The darkness and the whole despair within,
The tragic words, the sweetness of the sin.
You dig me holes, in which I voluntarily fall.
You never knew me. You never knew it all.
Life’s but a bittersweet assortment of the things
I knew and loved and all that’s left are kings.
I suck at life. I am mean and obnoxious and I suck at life. I trip, I drop things, I ruin stuff. How can I go on like this?
I need a life bumper, cause I hate life, I hate running into people and I’m not good at breathing either.
If I were to list out all the things I’m not good at, I’d never run out of things to say. But I’m not here to brag – I’m here to complain.
I hate my two left hands.
She smiles at him, quicly batting her eyelashes. She knows stuff, but she doesn’t say a word, and why should she? Life is ok just the way it is, there’s no need in tearing up the balance. Or whatever that is.
Yes, you use old words, my friend. Your smiles are not honest, neither are mine. Time passes us both by, so I have no reason to be in a hurry.
He laughs sometimes, probably thinking he has it all planned. Thoughts of the deceit and thoughts of the lie, they are all inside his petty little brain. He thinks he’s above it all, and this war is over, because he already won it.
I keep saying the same sounds, but they don’t make sense anymore. It is just an old story, retold with synonyms. But who cares about that, when the definition was already drawn? Sounds are just a way to keep sadness away. Lies are pretty.
There is no left, no right, no sound.
All that it’s left is pain to put me in the ground.
toate imi vorbesc cuvinte
rasfirante-adanc in minte,
si prin apa, prin morminte,
eu barfesc de cele sfinte.
uite ceasul cum se trece,
mai ceva ca apa rece
ce era sa ma inece
nu intr-o secunda,-n zece.
uite timpul tavalug,
se ascunde in cosciug,
nici de n-am un betesug,
nu-s prilej de vreun belsug.
viata dulce de amara,
de cu zi si pana-n seara,
tu ma tii ca intr-o gheara,
pana moartea ma omoara…