You look me with such maddening eyes
Trembling in fear, accusing me with dead-pan eyes
Transfixed, doing what is I thought right
I cannot amend for turning this water bland
Unavoidable, fine, mediocre onto stampeding my growth
God, let it be next time that I am allowed to get it right
I came to thinking, restless at early dawn
As my breath grew shorter
And slow
Then fast, rapid even
Suffocating and out of rhythm
Running might be the death of me
Shaping up to it at the very least
I cannot deny however how real
This dirt bed feels to me
and so, I came to thinking
About the shortcomings
and the great ventures
The role-models
uneven and without equal
The vastness of what's to come
And what is there, left and up for grabs
What will I learn? From whom?
Truly interesting.
Those that intervene in my regard
Shall make or break my days success
Those at bay, navigating the shadows
Unrewarded, never without merit
If anything, I bow down
one does not do what he pleases
Without piercing a pin through a butterfly
And feeding the wildfire until one is itself ash.
sexta-feira, 17 de março de 2017
quinta-feira, 16 de março de 2017
Send me a guardian angel, mine has retired.
The ol' farmer boy course was steep
Leaning to the reminiscent type sort of ways
Daydreaming a landscape embellished with fairness and grass
Carelessness force fed the sheep into madness
For chaos filters through enigmatic and obscure circumstances.
They went and fell on the crack
Now they hang by the rope meant to keep them safe
Their voices unheard. Here, a guardian sleeping; their future extinct.
Children, as they say, j'accuse!, say the darnest things!
Tongues far too loose, hungry and earnest minds
Filled with questions that should remain unanswered
For we already possess the mold, the final solution
Know this and repeat after me. Fact, historical, period.
I worry, truly, I do.
As a common fellow, frail, man, at that.
Were I allowed, in this moment of weakness
To roll through the fire of embarrassment
To commit the offense of declaring a genuine bankrupt
For my soul, from time to time at least, cracks and gives in
Emotions afloat, abrupt even, fearful out of present and past doubts
Failure, or rather, that possibility is weary and heavy.
If I am made to choose where to step
Will I be ok with that?
Leaning to the reminiscent type sort of ways
Daydreaming a landscape embellished with fairness and grass
Carelessness force fed the sheep into madness
For chaos filters through enigmatic and obscure circumstances.
They went and fell on the crack
Now they hang by the rope meant to keep them safe
Their voices unheard. Here, a guardian sleeping; their future extinct.
Children, as they say, j'accuse!, say the darnest things!
Tongues far too loose, hungry and earnest minds
Filled with questions that should remain unanswered
For we already possess the mold, the final solution
Know this and repeat after me. Fact, historical, period.
I worry, truly, I do.
As a common fellow, frail, man, at that.
Were I allowed, in this moment of weakness
To roll through the fire of embarrassment
To commit the offense of declaring a genuine bankrupt
For my soul, from time to time at least, cracks and gives in
Emotions afloat, abrupt even, fearful out of present and past doubts
Failure, or rather, that possibility is weary and heavy.
If I am made to choose where to step
Will I be ok with that?
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