Sometimes,
when I find myself between shadows and fire,
I wonder
why the time passes by so fast,
whispering secrets knowingly to me.
Things I can't explain,
Things I can't explain,
but I should.
I can not convince myself to do so.
''I want you to know
when i look in your eyes
with every blow
comes another lie.
You think it's alright...
Can't you feel the knife?''
I guess I can.
Maybe harsher than I've expected.
I'm too old to play with fire.
But I need some light.
Something to help me find myself-
it must be somewhere here.
It's too late,
we need to go home
(home is my journey to life),
we need to catch the time
before it moves on.
It will be really hard to stop
and wait for us.
Me and myself...
Perhaps it won't.
Who's to join me
anyway?
Too old to start, too young to give up.
My head's spinning around melancholy
and fears and dreams and anxiety.
What's the necessity of time?
Perhaps to remind us of our being perishable,
a kind of consumable material
made of stardust.
Each of us is a half-dead,
shot by a bullet
stuck so close to the heart.
We need to spread
our enemies' blood all over
in order to reach our eternal destination,
helped by Nobody.
The bullet is our
melancholy,
and fears and dreams and anxiety.
It will either kill us
or make us stronger about living...
*****
( song in the italics: 'Knife' by Grizzly Bear)
Adieu mes lecteurs...
