There's not a shred of beauty here, Residing in the human flesh There's only sadness and confusion, And the stench of shit and death.
In moments dull of self-pity, Of insufficiency and doubt, I catch myself black handed thief, Wishing that there'd be someone else.
Sometimes ghosts are passing through, The mind both labyrinth and tomb, And yet its still unrivaled here, Because things aren't born, Only ideas Are sleeping safely Far beyond the horrors of decay. And they are sacred and immortal Because they never have to fade.
Thumbing at times half-heartedly Through flipbooks of a lonely child, Old silent movies shake and flicker, In the dark theater between my thighs, Then countless are the handsome limbs, That wildly jump and hop Soulless bodies unspecified As they are numberless and cropped.
When you close your tired eyes Does he then join you in this place? Will he cross over, share your dream Or does he vanish on the doorstep All to quickly disappear. Alas! Reality is such a crippled whore All mortal things are sick and rotten to the core, Only the mind, a frail but kingly jewel, Gives birth to beauty love and truth.
So why not stay and forever make a home, In the darkness of the only place, You know you can belong? In a land, sublime that some call fantasy Our only hope of love Or immortality.
There's not a shred of beauty here, Residing in the human flesh There's only sadness and confusion, And the stench of shit and death.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
