The pianist (poem)
 

"It is not the time for party, yet", says the sunflower,
listening to the creaky sound of a closing door.
"Tick, Tack", and the bloody clock runs backwards.
"Tack, Tick" - Time running, like vitrified sand.
Peeled potatoes, polished rice, no dessert.
Colourful birds are passing by my wooden window,
as two more grains of sand fall into in the hourglass.
So we strip time of its shadow, domesticating our dreams.
A shaman in jogging pants, watching the sky...
..on television.
My vision fails and I find light within the darkness,
isolating dreams from reality...
Like a pianist, with his arms tied to his back,
you just have to be creative,
if you want to create, little sunflower,
and the door will open again.







That's about it.
Think my english sucks?
Tell my mom.
She won't care.
(actually she might care, because i'm starting language education in september, and if someone told her, that my english sucked, she might lose faith in me, so..don't tell my mom!)

You should read my lyrics if those sucks, mines are more awful...

Hehe, I shall read them :P
But actually I like my lyrics.
My english is what distresses me