See me

In the mood for love.

"Diary of a Mid-Life Crisis"

Just die.

Foam.

he's gone,all along with his madness and beauty

his eyes contained all the sadness of the world

which filled my heart with happiness somehow..
i remember the night he murdered you, me , himself , us...

and decided to chase parades

Im thinking of Donald tonight, he's dead too..
Im chained sister, with false comfort

like the stranger said, wearing a frown..

my old hands are shivering, the lines on my palm are solicitous

and life seems eager to aband me
Suddenly, human skulls look outwardly swell to me

as i desperately struggle to displease my eyes

and recall his words
lunaticly poetic, im still in the mood for love

to stir those grounds you walk on

and those kisses you send daily

to my ears where your silence speaks and i listen
so when you pray, dear friend,ask your God for some sympathyfor i am not willing to forgive...

The Hill

Walking up the hill tonight
and you have closed your eyes,
I wish I didn't have to make all those mistakes and be wise.
Please try to be patient and know that I'm still learning.
I'm sorry that you have to see the strength inside me burning.

Where are you my angel now?
Don't you see me crying?
I know that you can do it all
but you can't say I'm not trying.
I'm on my knees in front of him
but he doesn't seem to see me
but all his troubles on this night
is looking right through me
and I'm letting myself down
by satisfying you
and I wish that you could see
I have my troubles, too.

Looking at you sleeping,
another man I love.
I'm sitting here weeping
while the hours pass so slow.
I know that in the morning
I have to let you go
and you'll be just a man
once I used to know.
Before these past days
someone I don't recognize
This isn't all my fault.
When will you realize?

Looking at you leaving,
I'm looking for a sign.

you poured blood in my hands and im feeling faint

Oui, c'est comme ça, il y a des jours où l'on ne vit pas. C'est comme ça, il y a des jours où rien ne va, Des jours de plein soleil où l'on a si froid Que les plus pauvres joies vous glissent entre les doigts...