The crowd goes wild
The boys give it their all
Everyone knows the lyrics
You stand back stage
And evaluate the show
"Where do we go next"
Always one step ahead.
You've toured all over the world.
The girls flash their *****
They're eating from
The palm of your hand.
She walks up to me
Do I know him?
She asks, eyes wide open.

"Yeah dude, that's Kurt. He ate dirt last weekend"

I knew I still had
All your letters
All the train tickets
All the e-mails and
Your baby picture.
The stuffed animals
And the t-shirts you gave me.

But there were so many
Beautifull things
Within the storage box
That contained them.
There were pictures
Of my childhood
The swimming club membership
All the attendace cards
And key chains
The metallica back pach.
And my grandfather's dentures.

Inbetween all the smiles
There was the odd sting.
I think of all the phases
I went through
All the friends and lovers
All the long forgotten parties
Still living inside this box.
Times have changed.
Yet as I lay my head
To rest on your chest
Like we used to,
You say

You haven't changed at bit. Not even a little

Maybe we never change.
Maybe what we think changes.

What is this?
The musician invasion?
I wonder as you ramble
On and on
Both tearing yourself down
And pulling yourself up.
I just need to fix up
Your ****** resume
So you can get a job.
A haircut wouldn't be bad either.

We go through all your options
I refer to my brother in law.
Once a hungry musician like you.
"You know he plays for Angels of Petrus"
Your eyes jump out of their sockets.
"...and he told me that most of them work remotely, like the guys from Korpus"
There's admiration in your eyes.

And yet after I ditched you
And got on the bus
30minutes later
I see a dude wearing a shirt
That spells out the name
Of your band.
I roll my eyes a chuckle.
Here you sit in awe of me
Knowing the guys
Who's music you admire.
Yet have no clue who you are to your fans.
Humility has it's limits.

"Would you love me, if I was anything less, than what I am?"

I wondered while I quietly
Admitted to myself
That I do in fact love you.
I love how we fight
I love how me make love.
I love your hands on me
And your casual caress.

I may have not been
In touch with that fact
For a long time
And for all these years
But it would seems
That indeed there's no place like home.

And it would seem indeed
That home was always with you.
I saw the pain in your eyes
And I knew you were talking about me
When you said:

"You don't know what it's like, when the girl you love, doesn't want you but continues to exist and you just wish you could see her"*

No I don't.
I walk out on people in a second
So they wouldn't walk out on me.
Kind of how you walked out on me
And made me wait
Just sit on my hands and wait.
Always knowing
You took that for granted
Fully aware and bitter in the idea
That you could never fix that.
But maybe you're fixing it now.
6 years later.

nobody does it like you

Is it strange
To have all the women
You could ever dream of?
I know where you're at
You have no lack
Of playfull girls

But maybe it's just
That I was there
When you had nothing
Just a poor student.
And would be
If that were still true
With no care for your social status
Or account balance.

Before you spend your life
Going from hotel to hotel
Festival to concert
From Barcelona to Brazil
Before love became scary
And women became
Something to be cautious of.

Before we could google you
And find one flattering
Article after another
Of how you're the man
The young promising talent
A manager and agent
On the rise
With no prior expirience.

But the truth is
That we sat there together
Scared shitless
Fearing for poor attendance
And bad reviews.
That we excused you
To continue the tour.
Leave the rest to us.

I'll still be here if you crash and burn to put you back together and sort you out

You called me out
On never getting in touch
I'm sorry, I'm just busy.
But I came to see you anyway
It all started at a park
Surrounded by like-minded people
A metal fest

You sat with me on a bench
For hours just speaking
A headache from laughing too much.
You've always been funny.
You took me along
To meet "the band"
The boys who's business you manage.

I followed you the their place
An apartment of young artists
There were paintings on the wall
Products of the most exquisite
Young minds and skilled hands.
They speak of it
Like it's nothing...

There are guitar solos
Of the most wonderous talent
Playing in the distance
As I scratch your back gently
And feel you caressing my body.
I know you felt
My ultimate satisfaction.

But it's never been
Just physical between us.
It's always been about
The connection of our minds.
Thank you for the bresh breeze
You always blow in to my life.
Rock'n'Roll lives within you
In abundance.

What if what is being asked of you
Is too much for you to handle?
Should I just sit here and watch you
Break down that girl
Who contains all
The love and the blessings
That were bestowed upon her
As her rightfull heritage?

Is it love to sustain
Bad behavior simply because
It reliefs us in short term?
Or is it love to teach you
That abuse is only there
As long as you allow it?

It does not mean
That I will ask her to get even.
It means that I will empower her
To stop taking in
That which no longer grows her.
Look for better solutions.
For if it works for you
Then it is true to some extend.

Karma can never manifest
Untill you speak up
And say that it was never meant
To go that way.
The pain will not stop
As long as you
Make excuses for bad behavior.

The connection lies
Within the fact that
If she excuses a mistake
That has not been rectified
By the universal laws at play,
Then she is not speaking up
Against it and agrees to some extend.
For if it works for you,
It is true to some extend.

Stop allowing it to work.