terça-feira, 10 de abril de 2007

Poetry that does not rhyme: Pick up your soul

Get drunk.
Get on drugs.
Get crazy.
Get mad.
And in the end, get famous.
It worked before.
Go down your street, bring your video camera.
Film every little face that tries to stop your walk.
Every man that gets his hand on what he owns.
Every woman that looks at you with despair and arrogance.
Thinking you are and animal.
A beast, cursed to walk alone on this world.
So I tell you, just pick up your soul and run away.
Get out of this street.
Get your camera out of my road.
Your memories out of my eternal path.
Cause I got only one life, and no time to spend.
No time to listen to your lack of judgement.
Your lack of faith.
Your lack of soul on the world you’re living in.
Take your soul for a walk, and never come back.

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