End of Tuesday Lyrics
von Clepsydra
I understand the infinity of my thoughts
Which mean nothing now nobody but you can judge me
And your judgement concerns me ever less
I understand the little importance
I give now to those who hurt and overwhelm me
Now there is no one not even myself
I have nothing more to tell you
I wish to go back where I belong
I wish to go back home where I can tell the morning flowers
And the drunks of the night sleeping at daytime
The road taken until today has been the same for thousand years
I go along it always with the same bad ideas
Trying to change is simple because many are the awry ways
But these are full of everything and they all scare me still
Of those that last, the great eulogy of history remains
Which getting older narrows itself to mistakable void
Until it blends with little less true events so that
All becomes anonymous like a ticket collector on a train
The final goal of every being is to integrate at the best in the reality
Is living in, to possibly participate in a society taken as real
This is only a mass reading of events bound to things above
Every human control
In the past years till now with gloomy light of reason
Meeting foolish warriors
I created armor and shields able to stop wounds
Leaving the field free to dangerous enemies nourished with soul
Entering without delay between the armor and pine away from the inside
Which mean nothing now nobody but you can judge me
And your judgement concerns me ever less
I understand the little importance
I give now to those who hurt and overwhelm me
Now there is no one not even myself
I have nothing more to tell you
I wish to go back where I belong
I wish to go back home where I can tell the morning flowers
And the drunks of the night sleeping at daytime
The road taken until today has been the same for thousand years
I go along it always with the same bad ideas
Trying to change is simple because many are the awry ways
But these are full of everything and they all scare me still
Of those that last, the great eulogy of history remains
Which getting older narrows itself to mistakable void
Until it blends with little less true events so that
All becomes anonymous like a ticket collector on a train
The final goal of every being is to integrate at the best in the reality
Is living in, to possibly participate in a society taken as real
This is only a mass reading of events bound to things above
Every human control
In the past years till now with gloomy light of reason
Meeting foolish warriors
I created armor and shields able to stop wounds
Leaving the field free to dangerous enemies nourished with soul
Entering without delay between the armor and pine away from the inside
Writer(s): Pietro Duca
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Clepsydra - End of Tuesday
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