Squeezed as a Lemon Juice
Life gave you lemons,
Make a lemon juice.
That’s what they say,
That’s how we play.
Make a lemonade out of disaster,
Turn yourself to be your own master,
Run with the wolves.
Killed the Never-after
That was not the thing I was after,
I killed the never-after,
With my blood stains.
I drank the pool of punch
And made her leave with ounce of respect,
I don’t, I don’t regret.
My life is a silly joke,
I forgot to play my sacred note,
Now I stay here,
Out of trouble,
Out of sense,
Living life full of pretense.
I killed the never after.
I killed the never after.
I killed… her love away.
Death at the Cubicle
I was living a life,
Sufficient enough to bake an apple pie,
From time to time I drank Guinness and not to bad of a Wine,
But when I am at work,
I do calls at a cubicle and it feels better than
Being worker,
Or a builder,
Or a carpenter,
Not as efficient but still better.
And when I die,
I will die at a cubicle and when I am in heaven
There will be no cubicles
But neither constructions too,
There would be me watching down on Earth,
Watching humans die their deaths at cubicles too.
Air Guitar
I wonder if you could be a star,
Playing that old air guitar.
Time lapses on the faith,
As child collapses,
Renegade,
All I do is play for you
That old twist song
On my guitar, with strings
From air and bridge made out of thoughts
And it’s all fare,
Cause I can play any song,
While I hold my air guitar whole night long,
Strumming tune after tune to make the whole hall ring as a whole.
Ode to Friendship
I tried to tell you jokes,
And you got some spare time,
To listen to my sighs.
All those goodbyes!
Oh, life is going by and doesn’t get much better,
But I know we all want to strive,
And so the life beneath,
The masks we wear to hide from the life
That passes a breeze.
Our friendship is what matters,
Let’s magnify the moments,
Let’s play the make-believe,
After all, we are all just breathers
Of oxygen produced by a tree.
Bleeding
I was bleeding with my soul,
She was a fine girl,
And finally, I felt loved,
But the smoke inside my head,
Made me bad,
And I lost that mind.
Trying to find her again,
Was the absence of my mind,
I doubt I will find someone new,
I only die inside with time,
Counting on rhyme and little wine.