I have raised you since a baby
Loved you more than anything else
Helped you in times of stress
Dedicated myself to you

But it wasn't enough
Im here without you now
Without your personality to lighting up my life

You are the best friend I've ever had
I can't accept that you gone
Passed on to another life
A place where you will be happier

I miss you my child
Please come back, come back home
Being here without you is soul shattering
And I can't do it anymore

I used to rule the world,
Had dreams and hopes too.
Things worked out the way they should,
They did so as I said.

Now I sleep on the streets I owned.
Dreams behind me,
Like a fictional memory.
Killed by the comfort of time.

My future built on rocks,
Now turned to sand.
Pride came before the fall.
However the fall continues into eternary.

On a bench, looking at the stars
A cigarette through my lungs.
The engines roar on and on,
The screams of soon to be phantoms fill the air.

What should be, will be
And it is time now.
My back touches the cold water, as I float off the bench.

Cold water filling my lungs, cleaning them.
I shake violently in peace and awe,
The stars grow brighter and brighter.
The screaming gently gets softer.

My eyes close, the shaking stops.
I feel alive and with absolution, hope and faith.
I become part of history.

Look at life
Look at reality
Do we?
No.

We look at life
through electric dreams,
Electric machines
As if what we see
Isn't real.

Until the illusion
Is broken,
And we are forced to
Accept reality

That is when the pain
Is too real
the suffering
Is too real

Machines are emotional shields

I am here.
It is now.

I'm not there.
It is yesterday.

I will be there.
It is tomorrow.

Where am I?
I don't know.

I'm not here.
It is not now.

Am I alive.
Or dead.

Do I care.
Maybe.

It is now,
And later.

See you soon.
Together we will be.

Together now, later and yesterday.
Together forever.

Details, details, details.
The more things in my head,
the more things on the page.

The idea's flow.
Too fast, too beautiful.
Me, not quick enough
to put them down.

To down, not as I see them.
Depression is part of the progress.,
part of the art.