Sometimes I'm coming home I don't really know where I'm going. I can't go further and ask myself directly in the eyes why. It's imperfect how normal it is to go out in the summer and stare at the sky, alone, watching the sunset, looking at the waves...
Sometimes I'm coming home I don't really know where I'm going. I can't go further and ask myself directly in the eyes why. It's imperfect how normal it is to go out in the summer and stare at the sky, alone, watching the sunset, looking at the waves in the navy ocean, playing videocassets in my father's old player and admiring their life from distance.
I constantly ask myself why do people struggle with their consciousness and their struggles when everything seems normal? When life is beautifull and full of wonderness types of magic... The power of my own feelings can't compete with the normal rules of the world. If that's so, what's so normal about it?
One day I was walking at school and somehow my perception of life changed. I remember walking down the hall lost looking for a place to stay hidden. I would've been avoided. I use to pretend that some things don't need to happen and yet you manage to make me think differently. May I ask myself again if the story of us makes me feel different, unique, alive and breathin' at the same time. Even if I ain't full of love and joy in my memories, my mom always told me to never give up on myself. She knows that only those who have lived "the life" like no one know how beautiful it is to be okay with the world around you. No thoughts, I was ready to lift it to what brings our best and I'm certainly prepared to how it will brings us down.
That uniqueness and complexity is what makes us shine. Despite how beautiful things are, I can't stop thinking about the night drives, the past times, the long walks, your face, your smile, your thoughts on me (even thought I never knew how they looked like). Still close to the end I stick to the beginning, 'cause if I think for forever I'll never live for a minute.
