I sing of unimportant affairs, boredom and melancholy. I sing of detested feelings, suicide and misanthropy. Though I'm not dead - and may never be - otherwise people would reprobate and shout at me... I still sing of egocentrism, disorders and whiskey...
I sing of unbeloved ones, the bereft and ******. I sing of people that made me mourn, the last cup, the abandoned. Though I'm not dead - and may never be - otherwise people would say I'm selfish (because I'm free)... I still sing of negativism, hate and tempestuous poetry.
I sing of commodism. I sing of understanding we still dread to be dead, because sadness is not part of life - yet. I sing of time and loss. I sing of vibration and liquefaction.
Still, I'm not part of Byron's generation, for my satisfaction. I'm just a man who wants to change the misconception of sentiment. I sing of darkness and suffering - sometimes too eloquent (in me).