We are but a blinding light,
blinding life and all it's might.

when she sees us, it is all blur.
stars become puffs of light and the moon is
trapped in a glowing sac.

O life is a kaleidescope of chances,
of choice and of left footed dancers.

and when we rest all we see is darkness,
when our bodies die in bed we are free,
we roam the dreamworld like a nomad,
we walk and never see our own hands...

we climb the hills of evergreen,
we ride the blades of the windmills,
we swim the rivers of wine and honey,
we bite the cherries and spit whisky on melancholies. . .

and then we wake. . .

with blood in our lips,
we smirk at life
and we all die once again,
like it all really happened.

little boy, little boy dont cry
everything is going to be alright
one day i'll say goodbye,
don't ask me how don't ask me why.


little boy, little boy dont cry
always think that life is fair,
when it isn't,  it doesn't mean that we are not
going to get there.


little boy, little boy dont weep
when your heart breaks, just go to sleep
dream the dreams that makes your heart leap,
leap the cliffs that your heart speaks.

little boy, little boy goodnight . . .
maybe tomorrow we will glide,
the islands of clouds and the waves of sunshine,
keep asking him how. . . keep asking him why. . .

There is a place in my body where you lie,
A place where fold of muscles and skin,
pillars and bridges and jails of
bones are intact. . .
Where you swim in blood,
dancing in an endless rhythm of beats.
There is a place in me that can be measured,
but whats inside is immeasurable. . .

There is an Idea of you in me.

I am a dark fluid prancing around your buds,
of roses and daffodils, tulips and babies breath,

Loving  you is like being in a sugar coma,
oh what a lovely death!

I am the Dirt under your fingernails,
Killing you slowly like a venom flowing in your veins,
My tongue will be as sharp as blade,
I will stab you in the neck and cut your tubes,
Pound your head into the ground and just spit at your corpse.
I'll drink the liquid as fluid as my knife slicing you.
and hear how to scream like a tortured Jew.

I may not be your closest friend,
I'm not your stalker nor your fiend.
I maybe strange to know some of your deepest secrets.
But I am glad that you always feel my presence.

There is a  line drawn from you to me,
in a world where numbers are god,
where ones and zeros dance to a tune of complete silence.
and we are, but a mere thread in the web.

Strange it may seem,
but how golden the feeling is,
when you tell a secret to a person who see you the least,
but feels your worth.

ask me any questions,
I'll give you my opinions and my convictions,
ask me about numbers,
and get ready for a slumber.

that is me,
an eye in a distance,
not a good but watching you from afar,
like seeing the big picture,
but in details, that is where my focus is at.