I dreamt I killed a god,
withstood the scorpions of his mind,
woke up in his body,
turned his face into mine.

I freed his slaves,
healed their wounds,
tore down his churches,
erased the sound of his name.

I found a desert,
with a broken people,
made a sea of pure water,
a grove of endless fruit trees,
and a mountain of black stone.

With black children,
I surfed, I climbed, I ate
I took away fear, I took away pain,
I took everything but death.

I fell in love with a black queen,
who had no kingdom,
her being filled with more soul,
than some family trees.
She sung only truth

We danced under the stars,
she asked me:
What do you stand for?
What would you die for?
Are you willing to love?

I kissed her skin,
made love to her scars,
listened to the music of her,
tasted her hidden tears.

I awoke alone on the beach,
everyone sleeping in their homes,
protected from the morning cold,
peaceful for the first time.

I waited at a bus stop,
climbed an empty bus with no destination,
watched the beach pass by,
and all the other infinite landscapes.

I slept and woke,
sung and wrote,
watched a thousand people come and go,
found myself sobbing tears,
how lonely it is to be god.

Half divine, half monster,
As slow as the seasons but
As fast as raging thunder.
We swim in the air and
Look suspiciously at the world
Knowing for a fact that
There is something hidden from our eyes.
Like babies we cry and
Like gods we are worshipped by ourselves.
Like beasts we eat and we hunt
And like angels we dance and we sing.
We play with breath
And we play with fire
Yet there is this burning desire
To breathe air that is truly meant for us,
Because we live in a suffocating ballon
That floats in time and will soon pop!

Have we made a mistake in being here?

All of our devices warp reality
Yet my imagination is the only thing that is free.
We try fighting our chains
Force change
And build a heaven on Earth once again
But the beast cris
And years for rain
And shelter
From the raging storm.

More the I drink,
The less you do,

So Death is walking with you,
And walking with you,
All alone,

The hate you breed is made for one,
And the drink you took was made for fun, So why is it,
you are alone?

Two hearts or three,
The more the strength,
Two tongues at least,
Should be the length,

The blood it needs to be pure red,
The worse it is to use the dead,
Don’t fail to use the ***** flail,
With rust and mold and hair assailed,

Then spit on dirt and churn the mesh,
For bone will rot like all the rest.
And death will take with curse and sail
And whisk you off to your own hell,

This curse is made with hate and power,
With all four corners,
And angels power,

Don’t doubt the strength,
Of birth and death,

The first and last,
Will be your breath.