I break down and my hands shake,
I am a man,
I breathe nicotine.

I am a man and clench my fists,
I drink like a mad broker who lost his deal.

I am a man and I cannot cry,
My masochism refrained me to do so

I am a man and I lost my pride
I' trapped in a woman's body for years now

My ******* say I lie
And my hips are made for birthing and wide

I'm a man who lost his woman
And he dug his grave last night.

To Melpomene,
I owe you stars
I'm sorry that I fell in love
I'm sorry that I miscounted my ways
And adhered to the blissful days;

I parted ways with grief and shame
And fell in love yesterday
I fell in love and stepped in vain
I am now a man in chains

Rousseau forgive me for this muse,
I fell in love and that's no excuse
I am ashamed of my silly pride
I locked my yesterday during search and hide

In an attempt to ease my grief
I stepped into an era of sleep
And now I wake and look at light
Love is faux pass, no more mine to keep.

I'd like to pack my suitcase
For the night
And drift away
In the high sky.

I'd like to ask who are we or
Who am I
When the northern wind blows over the sea

I'd like to ask what we are going to be
Whether fifty or free,
I'd like to lie on the softest grass
Under the skies
For an eternity.

There are puddles near my house,
Puddles near my heart

You have got to be an artist
You have filled my life with art

I will sunshine you with love,
Don't leave me alone my lovely,

I will rest in peace
When I'll share an umbrella with you.

Can I share an umbrella with you?

Tell me my lovely,
I have hid my pain with failed attempts and perfumes.

There is no postman
For my himistu no letters

Secretly I fold the page into two halves
And neatly write about the trees and the stars,
Sometimes about berries and sprouts
Sometimes how you got lost in the crowd;

I have written my Himitsu no letters
And kept them folded in the hole between the walls,
I know you will never receive them.

Yet, I have written how much I love you,
Below them all.

The jute bag made an astonishing appearance as it
fell with apples on the ground,
It was Marque that Lorlei had found.

Spanish tales with foil and grief
had braved the tale of Lorlei and Marque,
The tomato juice from Marque's ears had flown to Lorlei's hidden letter
And poison that fish swim and ate,
Consumed by fisher men and people at the gate
It was a ball that determined their fate
Lorlei had gone and sung to Marque
They lay asleep with sense and sensibility
Beside each other,
On their marital bed.

I left an umbrella at the bus stop
The umbrella was yellow and grey
It had broad stripes on either sides
It was used during rain and a sunny day

The umbrella was left alone,
Along came a dog with a bone
And in the ardent summers of may
Beside the umbrella it lay;

A day later, A man came with his wife
She looked at the umbrella and thought it was pretty nice
They waited for the bus to arrive,
But the umbrella lay still at the side

It was one day when I came back again
And saw the umbrella held it's place,
It's handle was broke and filled with grease
It was filled with holes, yet stood with ease
It fell on the ground
When it was pushed by my little niece
My umbrella was abandoned again,
It had gone weary and with rusty chains.