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AcheronSo, honestly to say
no hells and heavens in our way
we only know that we're alone
when the light of our soul
will go out
we will go nowhere
but to Acheron
So, here is where all of us will come
when death will caress our hearts
when our deathbeds will be covered
by oblivion and snow
never melting pure and known
to cure the mortal's woes
Here we are
Oh Dear (whoever) God
why you lied to us about heaven?
I just want to lie
in the arms of the one who
is in hell because of dreams
Dear (whoever) God
I wished once
for a lifetime
just for a wrong wish once made
Our last travel
without coming back
over the stygian waters
in the boat with this
dying but gentle ferry man
Lighted only by the midnight sun
Falling in trance
I only dream
I could dream once more
Dear (whoever) God
you betrayed me
so I do as you wish
Lead me to Acheron
the names of sorrowI need a name for this thing. It must be called somehow...
I know I Have been there before and I Know I Felt exactly the same
And I Know that I didn't knew all I Know now and I Wished I Knew
But now I Wish I Could forget it all and not think
This is not a song.
I like Autumn. No, I adore Autumn.
and I Adore November.
If I count how many people died during the last three months it would be a huge catalogue.
the world is full of sorrow and burdens.
I feel sad and then I feel sadder, unneeded because I feel sad formyself and not for them.
But who cares, tomorrow I will not exist.
I remember her clearly. I remember the woman who died, too. I also remember and the man who died.
She told me somebody ellse died too and she was crying. I couldn't cry.
I am sure now, Even if she kill me, I will never hate her. I can't hate her.
I talked it over and oevr again with many of your kind and they found a name for it, but I didn't like it.
This is the proof that I am not human.
I have to go away...
The girl who loved the sunI will tell you a story about a girl who loved sun, had a pair of white slippers and a teddy bear. She also loved circus. But all those are just random facts. Reading this story, you promise to mind at every single letter and imagine its story. Because only then you will understand the girl who loved the sun.
There are no words to explain how much I Hate Sundays.
Sunday is always sourrounded by too many people. I'm afraid of them.
I Must NOT show my weaknesses, my ugliness,my faults, my hate...
He and She are fighting.Once I Cared to know why, but now I Don't. I've got used of it. I play the deaf.
Sunday... It is like when you are very afraid of something but you don't know exactly what is it and when you learn what it is, you get that worried and afraid you wish you never knew. You try to escape but you find a deadlock.
She is the girl who loves the sun, who has a pair of white slippers and a teddy bear and she loves circus. But someone locked her in a cell where sunlight never comes,
ViolinI remember the day
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
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