September
Friday 21 May 2010 photo 1/1
|
Älskar den bilden. Här är en text/sång/dikt/whatever som jag skrev för ett par år sen. Den är lång, jag vet. Enjoy.
Colour of sadness
Walking towards the sun
I'm so cold, so angry
When I'm angry I clean and tidy.
I guess you couldn't say I'm clean when I'm angry.
I get so cold when I'm angry
And I think about it...
It.
Changing subjects
Switching sides
Changing names
and switching friends
Transformation complete
his own selfishness and agony to defeat
Intestines twitching
His whole body itching
he can’t find the way
Round and round
In a world of clowns
Clowns.
Crying hearts lost in shadow
A shade of darkness covering minds, blinding eyes,
like a shroud of uncertainty
Covered eyes, blinded minds
What to do next?
Next.
He steps out into the moonlight,
stumbles into the cold darkness
Drowning in a cloud of chilly shivers
not taking any notice on the change of temperature,
he makes his way, on and on
Into eternity
Eternity.
He could feel his heart depart from his body leaving him cold
He felt the pride, joy, hope and reason leave his mind
His brain failing, walking away from him
Understanding failing him
Soul leaving him, like a dry, fallen leaf
and he ponders on like a zombie through the night
The night.
He’s a shipwreck
Broken
His nerves wrecked
Clutching, trying to hang on
but he’s not a man anymore, and
He will come back, no more
He’s not even himself anymore! (screamo)
More.
He doesn’t even bother
Didn’t even bother to look
Whatever you say
Whatever they say
It’s over, he is lost
They’ve made him
All over, he has lost
He has become, a monster
Monster.
Anger
Like rapid fire it rises through his body like a cascade of fury
His chest filled with despite
His head filled with hatred
Cold anger engulfing him
He is filled with hatred
Filled with death, the only thing remaining: death.
Last option: death.
No more
This is not a mere calamity
He is like a train of fury wrath
Losing himself
No bliss, no rime or reason, he’s a machine
Losing the grip
There’s no time, no season
Vengeance.
The only thing remaining conscious to him
Love, no more
No instant flavour of sweetness
Warmth, no more
He is cold as ice in a world unaware
Not knowing what to become
What’s to come?
No hope, what’s the use?
With faith as a lifeline, no
Still he ponders on through a purple fog of disappointment
Seeking truth, still, no hope, where’s God?
Meaningless
He is nothing but a meaningless bug
squished
beneath the egocentric wills of cold minds covered by darkness
minds covered in twilight
Twilight.
Cowards
Understanding
Fools
Demanding
(scream part)
Are you satisfied?
Where are you, where’s your life?
Did you grow up yet?
What did you do?
What did you become?
Where did you go?
Where’s your home?
Why did you go?
What’s the game?
Why play it?
It’s over
All the same, what’s your name?
What have you got to show for?
What’s left?
Where are your friends now?
Who’s left?
What has become of you and your life?
Where is life?
(paus(lugnt))
Life.
In no mans land, in a dessert of deserted spirits
I stand on the edge, brim of hell, verge of destruction
and I watch the sun set beyond the horizon
Without mercy
Mercy.
Walking away from the sun
6 comments on this photo
Directlink:
http://dayviews.com/prizmtechnique/458222538/
Visa toppen
Show footer