Whenever I try to say something intellectual; people think I'm mad... Why?... Where have all the honesty, that people talk so well of goon? The true and honest reply... I live in a dungeon of my own depression, of my own subconscious's; I dont want them to know. I like them to think that I know where I am... But I dont want to live in the shadows of this world, I dont want to live beyond the sun, but they give me no option, only grey commercial tv reality. -"Hey! -everything will be alright in the end of the day, you find your friends and your beauty, in the end of the day". -The soapopera preach to me, again and again...
...I live by the hour, nothing change, nothing grows in me... I live by the hour and dream of the night when no hour make me drift away, when love and understanding is one and the universe and true nature embrace me like a warm breeze in the summer night... I dream, like this, always...
Politics is so difficult, I have no talent, only wishes... I read books and study, I want to socialise and agree. I want to be happy. I want to fit in, but every time I try to understand this world, every time I try to say something intellectual, people think I'm mad... All these nights of waking hours, bitter mornings after roaming for answers in the black night; I did it for you and me, thought maybe I could find a way for us to get along...
