And wish that only greatness follow you around

We hear birds, echoing in the mist
while our mind fall asleep,
to the sound of a candlelight burning
the rope that holds me from falling.


Orange gray horizon, seeing your spirit die,
please allow me to survey this plain land
in search for an answer, so the sun can rise
again and again, inside my hand.


Words reflected by my mirrored heart,
eluding the death you see within me,
a dream of violence coming true, a second impression,
never to end, never to be complete for you to see.


I owe you the strength to break free
cause no one will tell you there's nothing here for you to find,
I've been swimming in the line where I saw you walk away,
snowy white powder, quietly overdriving my mind.


This is where I forgot my dreams,
And wish that only greatness follow you around.

Mime

I've seen my world change in a vicious circle
sutured my wounds in linear filaments of meat,
so everyone may be brought back to life, to die again,
breathing variable perspectives, defining truth, if you accept it.

what wisdom is there within us, to live based on a feeling,
as we prefer to believe in what's left unmentioned,
forgetting how many times has instinct let us down...
never to be thought through, never to be questioned...

Say what you really mean,
don't revise your self in anger or fear,
for what use is there in listening to a perspective,
If you'll only hear what you want to hear?

Reset suppositions, understand rational thinking,
once truth becomes an obsession
ignorance takes over your mind and soul,
as the so called truth is only one possible explanation.

trust the sound of waves, if that's what you hear,

understand that selfishness consumes,

and that's why, without these barren obsessions,

i'll see my world evolve, as evolution resumes.

Now, that i've looked straight into your eyes,

had to turn my head away, one more time 

in a glimpse of a sick poor mime.

Sun like fire

Evacuate to somewhere over the earth,
with your last words in your head,
refuge under the stars, where hand knuckles turn white,
where i sense the salt, wind, in a newborn's life blight.

nothing left to incarnate, 
no voice left to reason.

Whats left for me to breathe? to feed this sun like fire,
focused on the voice of one consequence,
burst with freedom, and subsequent systemic violence,
self generated waves, swirling in unity through a barbed wire...

nothing left to recreate,
talk about the daylight season.

Maré de cinzas

Ondulantes imagens por entre a espuma,

esgueiram-se a ver quem primeiro toca a areia,

pedindo que te encontres e te percas nesta bruma.

Sentes o beijo da maresia nesta hora e meia,

e pensas que não te bastará uma vida inteira,

para corrigir tudo, o que ficou por fazer, dizer e viver.

E nisto, ouves os sons da discórdia, ninguém à tua beira,

apetece-te içar âncora e zarpar,

por tudo o que ficou perdido neste mar.

Mas os teus dias não passam duma fotografia,

podemos tirar várias, todas ficam para a posteridade,

podes sempre retratar a tristeza ou a alegria,

no fundo, és tu, és sempre tu, o guião da tua felicidade.

E o amanhecer

Estás no limiar, no ponto em que olhas para trás,

vês-te ajoelhado e de cabeça levantada para o céu,

e perguntas-te porque é que te fodeste todo.

Mas ao amanhecer, renasce o que em tempos foste tu,

revolta, imergindo do caos em que a tua mente mergulhou

esbracejas, lutas pela tua vida, libertas-te deste lodo.

E o amanhecer és tu.

Hoje

Dirijo-me ao computador em busca de algo,

até à data não saiba o porquê,

hoje percebi,

estou à procura de ti.

Mas estás na outra secretária.

When we die, we go into the arms of those who remember us