Some more years of silenceMood
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song created                                

Wednesday, June 17, 2015 5:53:51 PM
song updated                               

Thursday, February 11, 2016 5:17:11 AM
IndieMusicPeople

 


















Within walking distance of my house I smile
And suspend me aboard a balloon
I decided to give another lap at the day
Hoping to find new secret but familiar worlds
Within myself
I cut, I flap my conduct. And lose myself
In the path of indifference
That was always my bait
And my tip
I do not even believe what I see
I do not even believe what I feel.
Within walking distance of my house,
I fall from the clouds
I hit with my face in the ground
Called myself
And lose myself.
I reach, without shelter, the shadow of a balloon
The distance at which I find myself
It is more than a boat in the air,
As a margin,
To some extent, quiet,
Of the compass that brings the child to the fore
Far beyond her yard and her street full of stones
There is a pavilion that is of footprints
And detaches itself from the sky
Around my light balloon, suspended by the air
Around the long day
By the end of the world, then
Horizontal is monotonous
And inhabitants are diluted,
Are issues of imagination of that who,
Clumsy, walked much, much,
Letting things take their course
And now is back then
With hands under arms
Put him out in a quiet mesh and blue…
Gone, then now
How many more cliffs?
How many jumps? How many pinnacles?
How many?
How many?
Big mountains.
How many?
Golden skies.
How many?
How many?


Within walking distance of my house I smile
And suspend me aboard a balloon
I decided to give another turn in the day
Hoping to find new secret but familiar worlds
Within myself
I measure, I flap my conduct. And lose myself
In the path of indifference
That was always my bait
And my tip
I do not even believe what I see
I do not even believe what I feel.
Within walking distance of my house,
I fall from the clouds
I beat with my face in the ground
Called myself
And lose myself.
I reach, without shelter, the shadow of a balloon
The distance at which I find myself
It is more than a boat in the air,
As a margin,
To some extent, quiet,
Of the compass that brings the child to the fore
Far beyond her yard and her street full of stones
There is a pavilion that is of footprints
And detaches itself from the sky
Around my light balloon,
Or not…

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