Some times the "some times" passes by
A piece of laughter in my hand
On neuroleptic straight trip days...
A red sensation in my hand

If death was just death, and pigeons

A growing urge; no face, no name
Get dressed, get out and meet the world
A haunted longing (chewing bones)
As secrets rot inside the w...

No reason to bring your enemies straight to your door
Angels might be singing for you, if the wind...

But mock, the scorn, the whatever
My gaze is fixed some other place
No use in carving hearts in wood

Yesterdays might be tomorrows. So why be afraid?
Angels might be singing for you, if the wind

A growing urge. This growing urge
I'm calm. I'm calm. I'm still alive
A piece of sun a piece of rain.
It might be getting to you

Yesterdays might be tomorrows. So why be afraid?
Angels might be singing for you, if the wind blows it all far away.
Who will then dare to stay?