Τρίτη, 4 Δεκεμβρίου 2007

one hundred years

it doesnt matter if we all die
ambition in the back of a black car
in a hich building there is so much to do
going home time
a story on the radio...
something small falls out of your mouth
and we lough!
a prayer for something better...
please love me
meet my mother..shes dead
but the fear takes hold
creeping up the stairs in the dark
waiting for the death below
have we got everything?
she struggles to get away...

the pain
and the creeping feeling
a short black haired girl,waiting for saturday
waiting the rain..
the death of her mother pushing her white face into the mirror
aching inside me and turn me round
just like the old days
just a piece of meat in a clean room
under a yellow moon,under a black flag...
over and over
we die one after the other
it feels like a hundred years
one hundred years....