020711
Jag skrev två dikter i natt, det första jag skrivit på månader. Den ena är nog mest bara strunt, den andra är kanske ett mästerverk. Ni får välja själv vilken som är vilken.
But telling the truth which you should
Floating
We're reading Japaneese books
And acting as though we know
Exactly what's going on, who
We are and
How to get where we want
To be
But telling the truth which you should
Almost always do
Everything is floating and
Nobody really knows
Shit
A Lifetime That Lasted a Week
Tremble, tremble, tremble my hands
The hunger in my gut
Or the words he spoke
Waiting, waiting, waiting for what
That knock on the door
Or his cry for help
Anything, anything, anything for you
Breaths under water
Or lies made true
And I haven't touched a pencil since I left
Words in my mind, too big to write down
Or possibly too small to read out
We would stand on a bridge in the night
As the absence of light paints London in blue
But then someone whispers in my ear:
That was nothing but a dream,
A lifetime that lasted a week
