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  • Run away from your love

    crédit photo : moi même

    There is a love letter

    That never disappear
    From my heart
    It's the one you wrote
    Before I left

    I've never been so sick
    Listening a love song

    I am drawning
    Pale blue eyes
    I am dreaming 
    Pale blue sky
    I am living with
    Pale blue drug

    That's flows on my veins
    Flows on my skin
    Flows on my legs

    Walking on my dreams
    Running away from that sad sad sad song 

    Life is a street
    Memory run inside 

    I draw blue sky
    On every wall
    Outside there
    Where the wind blows its cold melody

    So cold

    I've never been so sick
    Listening a love song

    The soft melody
    That never lives out my mind

    Is flowing from your veins

    Flowing on my skin
    Flowing from the walls

    Out there  (2)
    Where it's cold
    So cold

    There is a love song
    Looking for a memory
    To remind


    Tous droits réservés à l'auteur de ce blog.
    Contenu de la totalité de ce blog depuis sa création (archives y compris) enregistré sous License Creative Common




  • What could I possibly lesson tonight?

    crédit image : moi même

    (except the "live me alone" song)

    Around here, there is something broken.
    (the broken things is in the eyes)
    (a little golden flames, in the middle of a night, that only belongs to you)
    I listen to your voice, singing the L.O.V.E song.

    What song for this silent life?
    What life for this silent song which is your breath?
    Not a long time ago, I was living a story,
    Then It's all messed up
    fucked up 
    all became nuts.
    I had to run away like a fugitive.
    (I would be dead today, if i hadn't done)

    'round here,
    nothing is sure anymore,
    because of broken things.

    I have a pocket full of tears,  
    Hard times,
    Some broken things too.
    (Don't know what to do with this.
    How long am I going to be able to could keep this secret life away from harassment.
    I really don't know. 
    It is exhausted)

    Maybe one day, the real story will start again.
    At the moment
    It's a constant fight,
    To keep something alive.

    The breath of my favorite silent song will stay with me, I guess.
    (the breath I like is yours)
    I keep your voice on my mind, preciously
    It's all around me, this wandering breath
    Every sky filled with it.
    I guess, every moment of this life is yours. 

    I stay with you on my mind.
    Which is the less dangerous at the moment.
    Some says "insane", I would probably say "romantic".
    Strangely, I know you can feel thoses things inside.
    I can feel it too.
    Don't worry, it's nothing but a game
    to keep you alive.
    You have to.
    Would you like to look like one of this monsters one day?
    I guess no.
    The most important fight is here, inside.

    No danger.
    Feel free to live this, the way you want.
    That won't do you any bad.
    That does'nt hurt.
    That even may be reparing things, sometimes.

    And one day, you know...
    We will be together.

     Droits réservés.



  • Wise...

    crédit photo : moi même

    Wise. Feelings. White. Grey land.

    Wiser enough, to feel this slow movement close to your eyes.

    Wise. Is the name of this girl.

    Shadow her slow look up on your shape before her smile like Red rose fade away.

    I am watching the clear ray of light playing with you on this wise first morning. Playing with light.

    Adoring light. 

    Before we left.

    This ain't the end. Just a few pictures, like words or colours reminding me how clear and sweet is the

    light on the Island.

    Poetry never lives anyone. 

    It keeps pictures for memory,  kept as a treasure, a precious victory.

    The first step through the grey land, giving you a key to open the door that leads you to the next

    treasure. Word after word.

    One step then the next one.

    Like a person or another one. Not the same, but quite similar. But not the same.

    Maybe tallest, lightest, clearest.

    One step then the next.

    A smile floating on the air, keeping an eyes on memory, meeting again each of thoses treasures.

    Across memory.




  • Une roseraie.