onacarom
Member
Where are my hands?
maybe
when night and day are already company
loneliness becomes a visit that does not bother
and the lights and the shadows
are surrealist painters of life
maybe
I'm already a drawer of yesterday
in which others look for memories
Maybe
those strange birds
that turn into wisps of black smoke
as they come out of my mouth,
are the silent cry of my thought,
barren as a soundless instrument
Maybe Maybe Maybe
Maybe
everything has a meaning beyond this side
everything is maybe right now
a moment that more than a moment
is a sea of questions
Maybe Maybe Maybe
maybe I am the reins of my life
but where are my hands?
maybe
when night and day are already company
loneliness becomes a visit that does not bother
and the lights and the shadows
are surrealist painters of life
maybe
I'm already a drawer of yesterday
in which others look for memories
Maybe
those strange birds
that turn into wisps of black smoke
as they come out of my mouth,
are the silent cry of my thought,
barren as a soundless instrument
Maybe Maybe Maybe
Maybe
everything has a meaning beyond this side
everything is maybe right now
a moment that more than a moment
is a sea of questions
Maybe Maybe Maybe
maybe I am the reins of my life
but where are my hands?
Last edited: