Sticker on my Nails

Your face, multiplied, can no longer be
More than a sticker on my nail, to see
At a slow pace and to be seen alike;
Enhanced walking poster, you're not for my walls,
Other's tears may drink your colour.

Me, just me, fashionistic me
I'm going to be free.

Grass may let its pigment printed on your face
Having you, in brutal, unwanted embrace:
With the clipped-down nails, you are down again,
Yo be stepped on,

Me, just me, machinistic me
I'm going to be anything but free.

Showcase

Smallest light, draped in skies,
Roundest way it may find,
Inside spiralling eyes,
Ancient fruits without rind.

For the plastic caterpillars,
Shall we make plastic trees?
Or invent some new pillars
To support the debris.

Trapped inside his coccoon,
Butterfly-wannabe
Scaring off a monsoon,
Plastic birth it may see;

Innocence can be bought
From the store nearby;
Faster can be absorbed
Into light, never cry.

Heir of Nothing

Heir of nothing, subliminally, something is what you have,
When, above all, you rise, your glory with you
Like a fidellious slave.
All your bliss is borrowed, to the ones that are true.

Leave it all behind
In he wind that takes it,
You gold is no more than dust.

Walking on the banks of the river, you feel life
Flowing without you, heir of nothing,
In your songs, there is the same roar
Of wheels that have no oil.

Put life at work
Move faster as its pace slows down,
Heir of nothing...
Time's all you've got,
Part of nothing.

Anything's Possible

From within her heart, she couldn't see the sun,
So trapped she was, in her sin,
She didn't know where to begin
To make her way on the water and on fire.

Anything's possible, she kept on repeating,
Until she lost the meaning of it.

She saw only stone, not thinking of cutting it,
Till a drop of water pierced her hiding place.
At what pace?
Well, she didn't know it.

Anything's possible, she kept on repeating,
Until she found the meaning of it.

Just herself,
On a shelf,
Just a book
Made of soul.
Take a look
At its whole
Where good and evil are just two faces.

Anything's possible, we keep on repeating,
First we lose the meaning of it, then ve believe in it.

All Her Fault

It's all her fault for being caught
Uncovered, there, down for the slaught.
She must have carried an invisible burden
That nobody else can see.
She cannot be set free from all that she carried
Ever since.

It's all her guilt that drove her there
She must have stepped the road with care
She cannot be innocent, she's still pretending
The others did her harm.
Yet we all know, the truth is not on her side,
If it was, why did she try to hide?

Behind her clouds, the're nothing but thunder,
Nobody else could build.
You don have to look closely and wonder
Why her eyes are anger-filled,
You know it's all her fault,
Contained in just one thought, You cannot wash it away,
And yes, she'll pay.

She'll pay
For the blame
You have given to her.

Reloaded Hourglass

In the hourglass, I saw you,
Reflecting particles of sand
On your shimmering body,
Trapped in the perfect shape.

Time had its needles inserted,
Disabling your wings of fire,
From further flying under skies.

Broken hourglass meant no pain,
Nothing more than lost time.
Fallen leaves that left you nude
In the burned-out sun.

Salvation that didn't came,
Still hung up on the telephone,
There to receive calls.

Still, I think hourglasses as prisons,
Also starring in conceptual plays.

Shift in Your Look

Trying on the latest model of teardrop,
Especially designed to fit the standard size
Of your cold, dark, yet so bright eyes,
You vanish on the streets I'm drawing in my mind.

Can I find you behind all those sketches I've made
When I couldn't see you?

Your nails are enough to tear me all apart,
To break in half all my visions of life,
And to leave them colourless; art
Can't be more than your glamourized reflection.

Can I find you blue, ready to be painted again,
Now when I can see you?

Nothing more than a shift in your look,
Unplanned,
Unexpected,
Breaking my stainglass I'm showing to the world.

Do They Think We Really Care?

The whole world is going down, every minute, as we see
While we're sitting in our rooms, in front of our TVs.
Earthquakes, plane crashes, floods that wash lives away,
Quick imprisonments, murders, other crimes, we don't pay
Any bit of attention, so we sleep during the day.
All those pieces of news they keep aiming at us
Don't give any new thrills, though they make such a fuss.
Every tiny thing happens and they put it on the air,
But above everything, do they think we really care?

Presidents taking turns to speak in front of us,
Yet we're late for the job, we must be on the bus,
Our ears filled with microscopic headsets,
We can hear the sounds, all's as good as it gets.
There's another war we have to know about,
While we're heading for the shop or we're going just out.
In the restaurant, we're served a brand new tragedy,
That we consume along with our food, foolishly.
In the wild, when we take a few breaths of fresh air,
We breathe in newer facts: do they think we really care?

Packing our lunches in yesterday's newspaper,
We read something about a violent rapper,
Who shot six, then run away from the police station,
Now, he's loose, possibly living in his brand spanking mansion.
We don't have any money, and we think that someday
We'll be able to buy some new houses, we may
Try too hard to obtain all we need, our hands bare,
Our eyes sore, we're sooo tired, do you think we really care?

We don't care, we don't care, we don't care, we don't care.

For a Cartoon Star

You cannot show me your talent at its epitomy
Because you're highly obsessed with my deep anatomy,
Though I'm still here and ready to be impressed,
Still on with all my buttons ready to be pressed,
Like every single man, you're more attracted to flashlights,
Than to glitters on my body and words 'bout human rights.
Need disco balls instead what you've got to feel good,
A loud music spiced up with loud drums and dark pistols,
Nude dancers, well-fitted, nothing to do with Bristol.
Even if you're shining, you just need some new mud,
To make you enjoy every single taste bud.
Your eyes staring at that screen while they're playing Rosebud,
You're no citizen Kane, and no real Braveheart,
All you paint on your face is far away from fine art.
Posing way too much for a man your age,
You own nothing more than a stupid dog's cage.
Want to buy, though I've told you I am never for sale,
I'm too strong, so don't ever bother to inhale
Me instead of your crack, usually I'm free,
Yet no cheap, so you'll never have a piece of me.