Trees that wear hats

Pentru că mi-e frică să ți-o spun în față... nu prea mă ajută. Dar da, mi-e foarte dor de tine... nu știu, sunt cam ciudat, nu știu ce să fac. Știu, știu... nu e lung, e siropos, nu e prea social acceptabil, nimănui nu-i pasă, e plictisitor de citit, e prea sincer. Nu e complet lipsit de interpretări. Adică, dacă ai vrea, ai putea să faci din astea niște rânduri foarte frumoase, chiar sper asta. Dar mna, nu mi-e dor de tine pentru că mă vezi des așa cum sunt. Frustrări, vin, le accepți și trec și mergi și mori și trebuie să sacrifici sentimentul de împlinire dacă vrei ca viața ta să poată continua. E așa de sec, de tipic, de adolescentin. Nu a absolut nimic special. Dar și când era special, era la fel. Deci și cele mai seci rânduri sunt speciale. Le scriu pentru tine, deci normal. Dar în x cuvinte nu am să mai scriu. Deci te poți reîntoarce la a nu primi nimic special de la mine. Nu se schimbă nimic, ne vedem în 4 zile, și nimeni nu se simte împlinit. Dar dacă îmi răspunzi, nu mai

You sit in a corner, I sit in a corner. You're afraid, I'm frustrated. You need to forgive me, I need to forgive me. You lie, I crash. The tap leaks anti-venom while the gilded waters roar about. I roam the empty streets of the island while you spark a doubt. The economy shivers, I cast arrows away... while your shadow lingers on the warm morning ray. You turn to save a child of forsaken education while I cleanse the walls of their graffitti damnation. Perhaps it's in the sharks that swim in the circles or in the folks that grow violent... Maybe in the honor of a scoutsman's endorsement.  In the mortgage, obituaries and the long-lasting scar In the lies, the canvas and the road-covered tar. We dance about frightened that our world may end. We strive to preserve comfort, in the spirit and in the letters we send. Some write manifests and others admire fruits, while many a robber just dress in dark suits. Some hide blades in their minds and forge numbers

That harmonic struck just when the tram hit the rails. The restless phone call has yet to end, and my security has yet to be renewed. My first programme lies waiting for the world to see... But it's not finished yet. Phone call ends and the sun sets. Sunset colors... one of the last things to allow me to act like a normal person. I've grown wrinkles under my mask, it's time to let the wind straighten the old paperfolds threefold. When he comes home, he won't be noticing me. I'd be left a discontinued spike in his eternal timeline, I guess I should apologize. Even so, it all appears melodic, with just a mellow touch of reverb from the chamber of crimson walls and biology books. The tram hasn't passed in a while. I wonder if it's still up to get me... But it won't matter. If I don't get to live forever, at least the answers I long for will take me to my end. Answers are really all I need, confirmed over and over and over again. Actually it's jus

And so you've been sitting in deep and profound silence. Just a cup if coffee, steaming nostrils still allergic to yesterday's smog. Your mind's restless... as it's normal, given the scent of power that struck your fingers appart. So much power, it seems incomprehensible... almost Godly. For, I believe, the greatest victory is indeed in stirring the hearts of brave men. Your sting's behind my throat, should I move, I'd die in your arms.. or at your feet, depending on how much the coffee has cooled down in time. Your windows filter all but blue light. It almost feels like home, here, in your claws. I'm analysing you. There's fear in your deep and melancholic sight, staring through the nickel bedsheets.. it would seem as if my presence causes waves of minuscule muscular wrinkles across your lips, as if you were undecided wether to accept me or not. You hold so much power that you're afraid to use it... or perhaps it's just your careless game.

In the end, it is the certainty of death that renders us forgiven, in spite of all the entropy we had no chance but to produce.