In the Palm of a Handindry palm of handreststhe last leaves of autumncrispfreshfragrancedwith spring memoriesthat oncegave birth to summerdreamsthat then began to floatinto airfrom eyesthat thought too muchreleasewas neededamongst the coloursthat surround uschangingas time goes byuntilall that remainedwere leavesin the palm of a hand
Without WordsDiscomfortin tearsthat often fallfrom unknown heightin placeof desiresunknownwithout wordsthey appearto communicatemeaningthat the heartwill often fearto admit
Naming a Pricemoreis the momentwhentime has diedgoneforever moreboughtin secondsthat places uswithin momentstoo preciousto even thinkabout naminga price
RiseWhenthe graceful moonarcsthrough the coldwinter skytwinkling starscommunicate in whisper'sas the sunof a new daybeginsto rise
In Shadowtellingthe talesof signsthat werealways therebefore the facelessmassI standin shadowyou breathethe silenceambientholding outmy handtowardsmicrophone standbooted feetclad in suedemove to the beatthat exists onlyinside my headcounting the tickssecondsuntil performancereignsdare I openthese eyes of minemy eyelidsfeeling impressionsimperfectionsin the growing flowwhere stuttering lightis bornbecomes brighterat the swellof discordant beatmusicwhich immersesthen movesthrough mewhilst wordsstart to speakI findthat I dare notopen eitherof my eyesfor fearI'll see your facewithin the crowdin this placethen I'll knowthat the tearswill flowonce againfree
Opening the Cloudthe dayswe once knewnowforever seemso very farawaycan somebodytell me, pleasewhen it all beganto changewas it youwas it methat grew apartunderthe misty drizzleof moonlit rainin the parkwhen we first metbeneaththe gas lampthat still nowholdsthat long agosign"First Kiss Tree"it once saidnow it hangswith faded lettersIsometimes hopethatyou rememberthe timesthat were goodperhapseventhis placethis datewouldyou wantto be hereagainunderthe gentle fallof January rainits dreamingtranslucencelit from withinby the glowof moonlightopening the cloud
Ability to Believewaysto enchantthose eyes of mindinto simplicityof dreamsmeaningsunderstandingsrelatingcomeseasilyuponabilityto believe
Origin of My Dreamsopenyour eyesto see the worldaroundwhich we evolvefrom that dreamingmomentbehindclosed eyelidsthis song of sleepbeckonsthe parts of usdeep insidethat has no needfor namesthey movesilentlyfluxingfluctuatingwindingaroundthe transparentwavesthat surroundour beingsuch colourslivingin translucencetalking to uspulsingevolvinggrowinginto the picturesthat we take backto this worldsharing in momentsof divine inspirationthat brings such smileto our lipseyes alight at wondersoften timeswonderingwhere wasthe originof my dreams
Warm Scent of Summerto standswayingunder the warmthof mid-day sunin middle of summera field of wild flowersthat reaches my kneeshem of dressrippling in breezesound all aroundchorus of songfrom birds unseenfragrancescent by multitudescolourfuldancing flowersthat dreamunder this warmscent of summerhere I standarms outstretchedribbon from bonnetflapping lazilyaround my chinentrancedI amseeing the sightof this golden sunhaloedby spiralingcometssparklingacross the sky!
glass bones and paper skinShe had always been a smidgen shortof something whole and he was neverbroken to begin with.Except sometimes they sort of wereentirely, irreparably, miserably, broken.Where are you going?Where are you going, where I can't follow?And that, she finds for all of her brilliance and prodigal logic,is something she couldn't answer.It sort of scares her, a little,when she thinks about it at night.Especially when there's no one to see her,and the only thing that touches heris the inky darkness of her room.Other things scare her too.The thought of her name sprawled across a grave,broken beyond repair. Yet, he is her line to humanity;His smiles are her air.He is all essence.Yet, he bothers her in a way she didn't knowshe could be bothered. They were oil and water;open but couldn't fit.She wonders if that's how he felt about it.He still is everything, prodding at her mind.He will always be everything.Because he reminds her.He reminds her of who she was before she was
Skies over San AngeloThere is something about youI've never been able to capture in word or form;an alluring resonance in the sadnesshidden behind your piercing blue eyes,some immeasurable substancecaught in the dulcimer tune of your voice,that tugs on my heartstringslike a sea-eyed starlet pruning her melody from a harp:A white velvet hurricane in a black satin dresswith hammers for hands and a stained glass smile,the kind of beauty the moonlight clings toand follows around at night;Calypso's golden daughter-a silver dagger in place of her tongueand a smile pieced together from a leftover sunrise;A sidewalk flower with the might of an oakthe tender heart of a lamb,and all the bewildering mystery of Minerva..The kind of Woman you see standing next to the oceanand wonder which of them is more vast.You once kissed me on my templeand five years later I still swoon at the thought-lost in the memory of silken tendrils of hairtickling the skin of my cheek,and the sweet smelling breeze you
Your parents are artistsI've been looking for the best artist in the world, someone to help me express what you make me feel...But my life goes like always, you know, covered of darkness and without going through something to break the monotony.The sky color reminds me of her eyes, her deep sad eyes, her long and sensuous fingers, her warm tongue of exquisite flavor, her tenderness masquerading as loneliness and melancholy...It becomes a great joy when falling on your psychotic world, when sink into your hugs and kisses, it becomes an immense joy.In this way, loneliness, despair and hate lead you to madness.A man devastated by the tragedy, that feels empty inside, disbelieved and immune to pain.The hate blurs the feelings, annihilates the reasoning...I sigh deeply, because I also I become a victim of your beautiful curse.And in the sweet mornings of the world, your gaze is lost on the path that leads to my death.That is why I walk with my head down, because that beauty is compared with you, and becau
You were a mistakeYou were vodkadisguisedas water;too muchto my lips,and Ibecame sick.
You.You were Novocaininjected straightto my veins,but what was leftwhen youwore off?only pain.
The ConstantEveryone pretend to be kind to others, they speak of peace and love, they wish you the best, when in fact, in the depths of their hearts, they remain insidious.There are always variables, things that may you like it or not, but I'm here today to tell you about the only constant I know: you.What I am sure in this life, is that I did not come to this place just to see you, as our meeting was a happy coincidence, but to achieve a dream that will put us away from life itself, to achieve a life after death at your side.What I am sure in this life, is that the blindness in your eyes can't last forever, you will have to open them one day and realize that in your whole life, I've been at your side.What I am sure in this life, is that you should not worry, because once we dream together, not even your demons will find us.What I am sure in this life, is that I can continue with my empty heart, or a life full of your love.What I am sure in this life, is that being by your side the sky has a
Memory's GiftWhen the memoryofa perfect kissis rememberedby the touch ofnature's breezeupon your lipsthat's when yourealisehow much youhad lostandforgottenthis gift