I was saying "Show up"
When you showed up
I wasn't expecting it
Someday you kissed me and said:
"Don't you ever forget me"
Then you went away
And I couldn't help but forgetting half of our love...
Lucky you
That I didn't carry a gun with me
Those who are in love kill more people
Than guns and arrows
It leaves a wound behind
And the opened door
Won't ever close...
Nothing of these facts has reason
Nor lesson within
I enjoy the things
That turn on and off
And then turn on again, in vain...
Are we crazy?
Or are we sane?
When we want
Everything to be turned into a song
Anyway
I never complain
What's unexpected is on its way
I'll let it arrive here.
And we make story
And we happen in this life
As shown in these paintings
As shown in these bagatelles1...
Lucky you
That I didn't carry a gun with me
Are we crazy
Or are we lucid
When we want
Everything to turn into music?
1. An unimportant or insignificant thing