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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-10-20 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
I am a city of stone,
My blood is a river of sadness and solitude Carrying all the nothings I hide inside Into the rancid swamp called heart I'm said to possess, Like a flower is nothing While the factory of dust works ahead. My brain is made of nitroglycerine And my head of glass, so anyone can see The lost soul haunting under my hair, Yes... I love heavy metal, Headbanging... unfelt desire, So fragile... Did you get the metaphor? My eyes have my mother's sadness buried into, I feel them always so sick of view, My hands still shiver, as of fear Of the dark or of the fall, My feet make cheap music when walking While my heart... do I really have one? My way was a burial into agony, Senseless flight from life, I was a sad jester with fake jokes, I am a stiff corpse still creeping ahead, Cannot feel but pain, and whatever... Ashes to ashes, dusk to dusk.
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