interviewed me pal newsletter Mining
chop to laimagen;)
Monologue for Cassandra's me, Cassandra.
And this is my city under ashes.
And this is my staff and these tapes my prophet.
And this is my head full of doubts.
True, triumph.
My sanity was to hit the sky with a red glow. Only
prophets are not believed
have those views.
Only those who started doing bad things,
and all could have been fulfilled as soon
as if they never existed.
Now I remember clearly how people saw me, silent in mid-sentence.
The laughter was cut.
hands are separated.
The children ran to their mothers.
ephemeral did not even know their names.
And that song on the green leaf ...
nobody ended in my presence.
I loved them.
But he loved from above. From
over life.
From the future. There is always a place where empty
what else fácil que divisar la muerte.
Lamento que mi voz fuera áspera.
Mírense desde las estrellas -gritaba-,
mírense desde las estrellas.
Me oían y bajaban la mirada.
Vivían en la vida.
Llenos de miedo.
Condenados.
Desde que nacían en cuerpos de despedida.
Pero había en ellos una húmeda esperanza,
una llama que se alimentaba con su propio parpadeo.
Ellos sabían qué era un instante,
fuera el que fuera
antes de que...
Yo tenía razón.
Sólo que eso no significa nada.
Y éstas son mis ropas chamuscadas.
Y éstos, mis trastos de profeta.
Y ésta, la mueca my face.
A face that he knew that would be beautiful