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....wake up and look outside
the window, cracked Sun in the middle of the grey-darkened sky, how many strangers around me, my room so crowded, all those blokes staring at my mad face, they see in me a borderline guy to kill, they soon will let me fade away, I'll be certainly soon forgotten by all the people I know and love, no more room for me, no more fun for us, all those pollutioned thoughts that are driving me insane, don't get them allowed to possess my golden brain, I know you're trying to convince me you're still watching ghosts while they're wawing goodbye to you, laughing at your face, ...and in the meanwhile someone perfectly in tune is singin' his very own desperation, acting like a good-old-fashioned hipster, deadly captured by an eventful, glory-charged past, kissed for just a while by the golden rays of a momentary fragment of reason, unique seconds, for a unique guy who's about to give all he can, before disappearing into the Enchanted Wood mastered by mad trees falling upon his head, it's all like a decadent, scattered, highly aenigmatic dream, full of dramas and gentle insanity, we all are about to fall victims beneath their shadows, woods with no beginning, woods with no ending, thousands of heads filled up with "whys" and "hows"....... I try to grab every second of my life to redeem some old sins but the surface is far and pretty unreachable, I see faces, I hear voices, I'm listening to music, now, then I fall into the void, I wake up again and I soon fall asleep, into a dangerous, murderous sleep, my innocence is dead, he lies down into the grave, inside a chilling coffin, spoiled, raped, vanished like dust spread by cold winds and eerie laments of death and infinitive madness............. joyful screams and air-splitting laughs of children in ecstatic power are the glimmering light that guides this day to unusual brightness, while a wonderfully dark, decadent Bowie is being played on the radio station, singing "his pretty things"... all those things I have forgotten so far.... all those things I no longer see.... for sure I won't ............... I still think sometimes of cracking actors and dead stars, I relate to all of those glamourous names, that's the only clear track I know, because I'm not able anymore to look after my visions or see a new life for me, betrayed by my insane dreams of modern unknown soldier sentenced to a premature death............ ....after all, it will be like getting murdered for the nth time............ Questo testo è depositato presso www.neteditor.it e quindi coperto da diritti d'autore. Esso non potrà essere riprodotto totalmente o parzialmente senza il consenso dell'autore stesso, il quale, peraltro, ha autorizzato la pubblicazione su NuovoGPR, in data indicata in testa ed a mezzo e-mail. |