The pen of the past write the future in the present
People pretend and never learn their lessons.

And they fight their ego, but it always prevails
God's existence doesn't make sense,
Life's not fair
I guess Nietzsche was right ,
God is dead.

The pen of the past write the future in the present
What i am trying to say is that your choices will haunt you forever
And make you lose control and forget that you are blessed
Aliens are the new religion and GOD is dead.

As i declare it
I write it and turn to sleep
If GOD is dead, he is living in my head
I say my prayer and fade away
In the dreamworld where the ego always prevails .

Words Of Harfouchism.

Birds, they come to my porch to talk
Except for these crows that visit me on my window in floks.

With each cycle's end the black birds come to me again
I learned to speak with crows many lives ago
We have a pact that makes them reveal to me what they know

Knowledge is a fortune
Curiousity is a heavy burden
When the cycle ends , i close my window's curtains

Restless days , restless nights
Restless thoughts inside this restless mind

My will is conscious  , my allies are aligned
Death is still , waiting silently by my side

I am ready to accept what is mine. ( Do i have a choice?)

Words Of Harfouchism