It was an unusual fight,
soldiers and surroundings were primed right,
war cry and emotions were taking flight,
I wasn’t sure how I was going to spend the night.
Who's better in the war of love?

Tears can’t replace war cries,
War horns can’t drown out deafening silence,
Armed armory can’t beat out lonely foot soldiers,
Seeing eye to eye can’t wish away looking past each other.
What’s right in a cry of despair?

I wasn’t Napoleon,
she wasn’t Helen of Troy,
we were made for each other,
yet we seem to be from different eras.

Even as we were battle ready,
it didn’t matter who won,
peace doesn’t come at an expense,
indeed it came at no cost,
'cos you can’t buy love.

Now, who wants to argue about that?

I miss the good days...
But I must choose between ways...
And whatever I choose...
No matter if I go loose...
I will stay like a ghost...
Roaming Belgium the most...
Why do I feel so lonely?
Why do I feel so empty?
Why do I feel so dead?
Is something wrong with my head?
Why do I feel so stuck?
Have I run out of luck?
What has happened to my emotions?
What is wrong with my actions?
Am I fading out of existence?
Have I spoiled my last chance?
Have I lost my way away from the herd?
So many questions which are unanswered...
Luckily they don't drive me crazy...
Because I have someone in this world that makes me happy...
He lifts great lifts from my shoulders...
He is so unlike others...
He is funny...
And when he is angry...
I know he can become sorry...
He is so lovely...
He is so trustworthy...
We were both so lonely...
But then we met each other...
And then happen the wonder...
We laughed together...
Our lives turned to the better...
We had imaginary adventures...
We had pet vultures...
We rode in battle side by side...
We didn't even think about where to hide...
But now...
I wonder where he will go?

I promise to love you 'til we're old and grey.
Would you promise to do the same?
Who am I kidding?
This is all just a dream.

You don't exist, completely unreal.
To be honest, I'm all alone, passed out,
face down in the snow.
My imagination swirls around in vicious circles.
I'll need a compass to find my sanity again.

Sometimes I get the feeling that I am
not really alone. Somehow I doubt
that it's ever going to change, same life to live.
What happens talking with the wind?
And what now, just weeds, or seeds already sewn?
I am under the impression that we walk back
to the house to take a moment to write, on our own,
and you sit with me by myself even when I'm
the only one home.

Nothing is really there when you look for it,
if at an empty spot in the page I lose sight
of the fact that life has quit. It stopped working
once all of them found a reason to ditch.
I guess we'll never know because within me
there is an undying itch. False without you,
let me be free to be alone with me...

is finger-licking two senses
me, myself and i sit down, consensus
everyone has a different rendition of relentless
what version is this of this, which you, depends it
imaginary penitentiary, locked in myself, one tenant
like i could send a message with only a letter, pen it
see greater with less 3d one eye red it
eye to brain, i blew it
i 9 lives brain dead
brain faculty, mind, not same head
while nothing visual, split cranium and drain head