Are you drunk?
No, I'm just a poet
With a knife in your hand
And a cigarette between your lips
Going back to 505
To try to make art
Worrying about being nobody
Once again I have to speak or die in my hands
I want to believe that I have achieved something
And I remember the sleepless night
Let it happen counting each star
Missing something again
I need to believe in something again
Do you think three days are enough?
Because no one is patient with me
Maybe it will work if I get sick again
I'll do that, I think I've got it!
Carry all this broken bone
Bring it closer to hell
Turn up the volume on my headphones
If you are, I would stay all night
I need another drink of coffee
I love to play with putting something together
Just to destroy everything
Like everything I write
Like everything I think
Like everything I paint
Don't go away, I have a few days to live
Maybe all my life I will live in ataraxia
I just want to see them again
Cry in silence, suffer in claustrophobia
Somewhere at the end of time
call me by your name
I will call you for mine
Written by a fucked up hand
Composed by a lost mind
In sugar and caffeine
That's the concept of always being incomplete.
Overdose until I get sick
Because I love pain
I still feel the oblivion in my chest
Speak or die?
I've always been a coward
Why are you calling me so late?
Someone please tell me
Why the hell am I going this way?
I think there is no remedy
Why do you only call me when I'm/are high?
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Opening my heart in a closed space is the solution
Because I'm a fucking poet
Because I hear my agony in every letter
If we talk about speaking or dying, I prefer to die
And I just want to see the sun rise with you.