Ancient robots are cute little dancers.
The moon is a circle in a dream of a fantastic star.
But you are the one with the voice that is clear.
Always when I hear.
I see the world differently when you’re next to me.
I have to give away a piece of me as a piece of energy.

But who answers when nothing matters?
I mean: nothing can be forced so when I’m stuck, who takes me out?
Take me out on an adventure, don’t warn me, you never do anyway.
This time in a good way.
Please, pleading has no use.
Something’s always got to give, some breaking of the mind, some breaking of everything.
Some abuse.

Some rebuilding, reshaping, I got no say in when, how and where, better not care.
Take care.
And please tell me: will we be making sandwiches again?
Again in the world beyond this one?
Another Matrix or the source?
Enjoying the simple things of life on earth, no more, no more, not anymore?

The power of creation.
New things.
New worlds.
Black circles, everything.
It’s coming, always coming in and out, and in and never out, let me in, never out, never in.
Come in.
Come out alive.
We all want to come out alive, right?
I didn’t.
But I did.
I was born but never came out myself, almost died.

I wanted to dance but they put me in a room with no space.
So I gained weight.
And when I wanted to sing all these people in this town started staring.
So I started skating, tying the laces of skates till my fingers started bleeding.
Even with plastic tape around them it’s not always working and my muscles are hurting from bending and tying.
Tying laces for 20 minutes before finally skating freely.

And after years I finally found a good mattress but now it’s laying there in the way of everything.
It doesn’t fit on the bed, in my room, no space for exercising.
A shop at every street, no space for walking.
No space in my head when OCD-ing, trying to find a way through this everyday.

All that most people can see is me complaining.....