It's obvious that I'm a dream you took out of your eyes
I'm gone. People don't see me.
I'm navigating between them.
I say something, they don't answer, they think my voice comes from another range.
I have disappeared and they are hiding, there are thousands of cages in them!
They don't care about my place, my time or my life. The love they don't know in my heart has become a wall to their blind eyes.
Unfortunately, there is no healing, it has crusted over his wounds. I'm alive, they're always fluttering!
The foamy screaming language of the wave,
It is the same master that gives soul to the sound…
When you ignore me and watch me
This increases my pain
I'm alive, they're always fluttering!
Curtains are fading from color to color. Eyes do not see black. Each screen tells its secret to those who want to know it, as if it were washed with tears in every April rain… The screen is in the Cave, where God has become my friend… My crazy fireworks reflecting from him do not awaken my enemy, who is filled with strife. In each of his memorized refrains, the shadows of his true chest are the same - jet black. I'm alive, they're always fluttering!
The flow, which is thought to be flowing on the surface of the water, envelops the jealous and arrogant hand as it sinks to the bottom. As the curious hand, accustomed to hostility and prejudice, mixes the water, the clearness of the slime underneath is confused and fades… Habits, experiences, contradictions are thrown away! That clear water becomes a swamp. If he wants to live, he must wake up as he struggles. Because it is the mud that should settle, not itself! The pain is in the speckled skin, maybe the cancer cell is in me… If the ugliness is hidden, it will give itself away if I become branded, the fire of unquenchable loneliness is like a volcano erupting in the Canary Islands right now. The fire of loneliness as you burn it like a radiant. The living flee, as everything they thought beautiful burns. I'm alive, they're always fluttering!
River, who has not subjugated since God. Who did he not take into his bosom as the Euphrates flowed? What they call the Amazon has become a legend only for an unmanned flow in the jungles...
They flowed but always at the end:
As they flow, they turn upside down. As the monsoon rains fall, their skin bleeds and their hearts bleed for the devil. He can't find it, the only human-pure port he says will be with him wherever he jumps. I'm alive, they're always fluttering, the same blood from the vein even if it flows...
To die is not to come out of the skin. The soul also comes out in a dream, but when it wakes up, it returns. But if you give advice, the listener will send him into space. However, if it is a dream, or if he interprets the coffee in the cup, he interprets it as good or bad, and hopes for help in that way. He misunderstands right, like reaction to influence. If he hears the voice of what you call my friend, maybe it is hope that it will touch the heart and conscience. But even if the world loots as you say, what will you have left, or will the thief steal it and destroy it?
Someone who knows the apocalypse
Imagine if one day he wouldn't be alive in the world
I'm alive, they're always fluttering!
I've been a slave to the only truth
I have never been, the reason why I disappeared.
If we think that those beautiful times when we take pleasure in everything and can live with the taste of every moment and every period are now over, and if we believe that it is, we have done a great injustice to nature. We may have left a worldly legacy to the next generation. Whether this is enough or not remains a situation that needs to be questioned!
Interesting!