As Promised

Finding ways to define what you show only kept me busy in vain...
Bla bla blas, and empty words again.

Poor rhyme is all that was made out of our superficial complicity...

There is no more whys to save that bizarre simplicity...

And poor rhyme is all I can create from our lame musicality...

We were a mere copy of a boring pop song;

Those ones that move teenager's plastic glossy brains at dawn.

We moved in a instantaneous rhythm combined together,

And as any momentary ballad, the boom of the hit was burnt too soon...

As promised, beautifully mysterious verses were composed...

Maybe not the sound I wished to be played;

For they stretched their spaces too far apart for me to keep up all the way...

And that is how it went:

The tune was too high,

The melody extremely unbalanced,

The words came out as wrong as a hurt heart,

And as fast as a lost bullet,

The energy went off,

No power to pulse,

It was too dark to keep singing...

yet, we were my best composition...