Knowing is death

and only learning how to forget
will let you shed the painful skins
and grow the last one,

which will be made of silent suede.

I will come back to the place someone else
once used to call home.

My eyes will kiss again the flame-rotten moths -
it will be a pleasure
to see them escaping their unknown fate,
at last.

I will pray to the sun again,
when my time comes. There will be no one pushing us
to the oblivion of tomorrow.

Let it rain to the end of the world,
let it cry until the clouds get dry.
Sometimes we have to let it all go,
sometimes it is the only way out.

Hurricanes and tornadoes around,
thunderballs take the summer by storm.
Let it hit, let it rule - let it die,
that's how our hooray will be born.

There's no place to escape from this hell,
there's no chance to survive - there's no way -
the rain's falling on us, night and day,
or it is something more than the rain?

Heavens they have been crying all month,
maybe over a life someone's lost,
maybe someone has died well too young,
maybe it was something even worse...

Heavens they have been crying it out
all its tears, then its eyes, then its heart.
Sometimes speechless we are when life clouts,
our planet is a house of cards.

On the chair your wet coat, your wet coat,
my wet hat on the table, my hat.
Our old boat is drifting ashore
with the sail by the wind torn away.

But this land meant to be our land
and this weather is us - our part.
Let's unite and let's fight and let's mend
all those sails which have been tore apart.

Let it rain to the end of the world,
let it cry till the tears get dry.
Sometimes we have to let it all go,
sometimes it is the only way out.

Let it do it all over again,
let it hit, let it rule, let it die!
We are scared, we are tattered and torn!
We'll be safe - it's a matter of time.

Heaven is so close,
but the Hell is always a bit closer.
You have finally quit playing dead,
but the game of life was already over.
Now you are looking for salvation...
You will sooner find a five leaf clover.

I didn't start the war.
I swear it wasn't me!
I was sitting in my bedroom
listening to music and drinking tea.

I have no reason to fight,
to **** or retaliate.
I despise violence.
And I also meditate.

I don't follow the news,
I'd say they rather follow me.
That is my only crime,
that I feel for the killed.

And yes, I cried when I saw
a woman holding her dead child,
her eyes were red from scream
to the silence of the sky.

Yes, I cried when I saw it,
I couldn't stop my tears.
That is my only crime,
that I feel for the killed.

I always wanted to leave the dead womb
at least for a second,
and see the Light, and feel Its warmth.
I always wanted to know how it is to be alive for a day or even an hour.

I always wanted to feel the life blooming inside me like a flower.
I always wanted someone to call me their child,
and to give me name, which would protect me from exile.

I always wanted to forget the past, or at least fill it
with something less visible, less alive.
I always wanted to be able to
exist without the constant tilt of time.
No, the senses lie - I have never wanted to die.

To escape the never ending desire to taste the fruits
from the garden of Hell.

I never wanted to be forced to leave,
for there would be no place to go, I am afraid.

Sunday morning.
A fragrant storm  
in a coffee cup.