Morceaux choisis, griffonnés d'une main fébrile sur un porte-document lorsque j'étais ado:

Leaving Life isn't leaving Love,
But leaving Love is leaving Life.

Life will always go on
With or without us
Thinking that you're useful,
You can't see that nothing is real.
Reality is not what you make,
It's what you feel...

You have to return
To what you were.
Darkness becomes Brightness,
And Brightness seems too Dark
For me...

I've looked behind the dark curtain
Of Death
And what I've seen then
Is my Fate

Life is a way
On which we run
Some will win the race
Some will lose it...

A Fire is burning inside of me
But the Water of my cries extinguishes it
Wind in my head's breaking my mind
And returning to Earth will be my Fate.

Six petits textes, qui finalement n'ont jamais quitté ma vie...

J'ai peur.