Lundi 15 mars 2010 à 21:52
days past and i have no words, no sentences/phrases
there is the band of skulls that hurts the guitar
and a few lemons that come by
but my pals are pale
diamonds don't hit me like silver does
- you got to go it's alright
I wanted to see you last night
the house is fresh and still
in the morning she eats soup
I'm full as empty
going on the river and look to the birds
got to regard right
find a way to understand a thing
at a time you're burning
every morning she eats soup
every day I want to - with you
why are you so sure ?
Vendredi 8 janvier 2010 à 1:48
Nobody cares, and nobody tries.
All I want is the sound of words. But no words.
A melody of flattering and flirtations. But none.
This winter is weird. No home, just blow.
Cigarettes. Smoke flies all over in my mind.
Thinking twice, no conscience, cautiousness, hoping that someone.
Come and make it right.
Private parties and smocking exctasy. This is it. Good sense and more. Through eyes and stupid words, everyone get sucked. Me and you in a future spiral. the world doesn't agree. I'd like to, but reason is better than heart, even if it hurts. Words of wisdom. Want surprises. Ready for these. In my mission, doesn't cry. Bear. Leaves things to change on their time. Heart attack.
Silent. A thorn into my side.
= Give it back.
Samedi 2 janvier 2010 à 22:46
My bed is cold. It is not wonderful. I don't care for anything, for anyone anymore. I don't want to be linked, I don't want a BF. I keep everything for myself. Hoping nobody dares looking at me. And let me go, pull out my heart like it used to. No more inspiration, lost in sleepyness. I feel dreaming constantly coincidently. So much in sleep. She's a blabbermouth. He's pointless. They're uppity and still unwilling to listen. She doesn't want anyhelp and cry on her own shoulders. No need of a sad flower. Cold is my head.
Lundi 14 décembre 2009 à 23:24
Now, just go, go, go. Like you're leaving.
Le froid n'a pas le temps de m'engloutir, je cours. On fait tous des bêtises. On fait tous des choses qu'on regrettera. Même si il faut pas. Et ça s'oublie. On oublie.
Badaboum bada.
Les mots manquaient, les événements fusionnaient. Les pensées ne suivaient pas. Et pourtant, il fallait que ça arrive. Le grand vide soufflé par le vent froid resurgit.
Contrôlable. Tout est contrôlable. Nous ne sommes que des machines qui ne savent plus penser.
Regarde autour, les gens dorment. C'est le bon moment pour sortir. Malgré cela, je me laisse emporter dans un long sommeil. Je copie.
Mardi 24 novembre 2009 à 10:30
don't need one if I love no one.
Drums and violons in my head,
my life needs rythms.
I fell in love,
with a place.
But all things go.