You’ll see the poet walking fast,
You’ll see the poet running slow.
And in the end he’ll be the last
And only viewer of his show.
And only viewer of his show.
Him and his endless sorrow.
***
The poet doesn’t write.He dreams.
Few dancing letters shinning bright.
God bless the night, he says, and
God bless the night, he says, and
May the morning die in screams.
Some tears then are born.
***
The dreamer doesn’t sleep. He’s frightened.
Of what his nightmares may become.
The dreamer writes, because he dreams
To be a famous writer.
The dreamer writes, because he dreams
To be a famous writer.
The dreamer dies alone.
***
The reader hopes to meet one day,
The author of his cruel life -
The author of his cruel life -
No one is there to publish it.
(Same things told in a different way)
The actor that can't be a book
Feels like a useless writer.
So, lights go off.
