It is not pretty wrong. It is not pretty right.
It is life. As it is. Just a way of moving.
You’ve got wonderful sight,
But there’s weakness of light:
You see faces around,
But you look absolutely through them...
You've got dozens of questions
And couple of answers inside
You may live as you like,
But taboos are aggressively smilin’
So you open you soul,
You've got nothing to hide...
But there's no one around -
Plastic deserts on urban islands...
You believe, you insist
That's there's something to change
You got tired preparing
For perfectly-better tomorrow
All your actions have stopped,
You're becoming insane
You are waiting for sign,
You are seeking for love to follow.
....
It is stranger than fiction,
It's more complicated than math.
Oddly noisy around,
But your heart is completely silent.
You're not eager to choose
Any future or any ambiguous past
You are sitting on shore
And you see how your soul is flying...
(Winter.2oo7)
