sâmbătă, 14 noiembrie 2009
Sometimes,when I'm searching for inspiration, I turn myself in time to the pink room,with pink walls, and I put my sorry ass in that black leather chair, bare naked. I breath the hot air in my mind, and then your warm voice whispers me what to write, what to sing. Don't worry, you're safe inside me. You're safe, locked deep,like the most precious treasure one can belong, and I get you out from time to time, just to look at you, to remind myself how it feels to be happy, only if just for a second, how it feels to be me, to be hole. I need that second to feel alive, cause in the darkness we live in, death smells like shallowness, and I want something that is true for me. The pink walls, in my pink dream, didn't made me feel shallow. My soul stand alone in front of me, in front of you, and I felt light. Warm light. This is what you need to know. And that I ask nothing from you. Oh, and I'm not drunk when I write this. Neither hi.
I'm not in the pink room. I'm in my room, in my pink pajamas and my purple state of mind, with my hands writing pain. Here I go again... Don't hide. I'm not coming closer than this, anymore. But "I still feel you, touching me, taking me".