a vacant fully furnished house,
an aspiring team of kids,
a fire inside that can't be doused,
a perfect time to make that bid,
another breath, another chance,
another look, another glance,
I'll cry but I am still a man,
and I'll laugh off all those fake romance.
if I could dream I would be me,
'cause lately I'm not the one I see,
reflections are just rays of light,
a medium that enables sight,
I'm seeing nothing at the end of the tunnel,
but with or without it I'll be taking flight.
the dreadful thing that blurs the lines,
between what is wrong and what is fine,
not fated destined or intertwined,
to flambe' without the dark red wine,
as memories will soon delete,
and moments will always be an epic feat.
to be slaved by experience
is of wisdom and brilliance.
all in all I'm still contented,
those unwanted issues that i prevented,
my rusty mailbox will be left dented,
I'm a nice lad but i pretended,
now set the cannon at a new trajectory,
then I'll paint my hair red literally,
and i'll take things easy, plain and simply,
but fuck me i'm all out of enemies.
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