I get yesterday and today mixed up, a bit.
I'm thinking about it, tomorrow.
And the soul, which would want to "speak",
is keeping silent now, and is not singing any more.
Let's get away, then...
Going away;
leaving for one year;
traveling, but
feeling it inside you and
burning up to
the bones and inside of them.
The nostalgia
that blows towards the East,
if I feel down.
Cradling,
getting someone to carry you, and
saying to oneself, "That's ok", and that
I feel this world
is not dreadful,
after all, you know?
And I'll want
more, more, more, more of it.
Because, sometimes,
it's not so dreadful
to admit that you are just like me, you know?
You, who always live with your
fears
???
I know, too,
that the world
is not gonna change.
You smash everything,
amaze who doesn't believe...
doesn't believe in you,
as long as you can.
Cardling,
getting someone to carry you, and
saying to oneself: "That's ok" and that
I feel this world
is not dreadful,
after all, you know?
And I'll want
more, more, more, more...
More, more, more, more of it!
Trying to
forget that
it always goes badly and
we are in trouble.
They already said
that the world is shabby. You...
You just get more of it.
More, more, more, more...
More, more, more, (more of it!), more...
(More!) more, (more!) more, (more!) more, (oh no!) more...
More...
More! More! More! More! More! (More) more (more, more, more)...
Mo-mo-mo-mo-mo-mo-more of it.