All the words I know I have called in my service
To make me a swan song
All the useless words of the world I have called in my service
To watch me go down when it all goes terrible wrong
I want to make Shakespeare’s best
Look bad when put to mine next
Or die, or better yet, get unborned, make my mother think twice before deliver
This has to be the final test
An illiterate that faces the abys
Summoning language to make his way straight, to dig him some tunnels
Through the walls that for so long have kept life away
Cause just before he goes, he wants to fully be alive, for just one day
Exalting myself above the highest peak of reason
Conjuring the thought to bow down before me
I need to grow taller than my poor, wretched body
There is no other way to really come to be
A hole must be made in this prison of meat
For one breath of fresh air I would give my last beat
Come out, though you smell like death
Come out, start to live
Come out, said he crying
Come out, stop confusing living with dying!
This pointless hymn is not mine
It’s the swan dying in me that cries
What has been ever solved by speaking?
When have words conquered anything ?
From where the faith in making phrases?
It’s all been said before, the world is still a mess!
Hey, stupid swan, stop singing!
Can’t you see there are no ears for you?
Just die already, and let me get some sleeping
It’s getting late and I am sick and tired too!
This neverending nonsense
These words just would not stop!
I’m so under the bad illusion
That talk can make me have a chance
What sort of magic do I think I master?
It will take millions of years to make a word move something
Stop flowing words already, do it faster!
Before you find yourself exhausted, bleeding, dying in the morning
I will not stop, I need to sing
It makes my heartache ache less
My song some little bits of happiness eventualy will bring
And you will thank me then, when you’re no longer hopeless
Oh dear, poor, naive swan
You know you’re dying, so why the happy-bitter song ?
It should be bitter-dark, or should not be at all!
I’m loosing it already, cause now I’m quarelling within myself
A timid voice, from deep, the basement or my being’s core
Has lost it’s faith in language, because the words it utterd were only dust under the giant Shakespeare foot
It’s the swan crying : let me speak now and I will say no more
If you are lucky, you will one day fall in love, and love will fall in love with you, cause only love that goes both ways is truth
A sad look in the mirror
The swan was dead
She finally had went to bed
But she had made of me an warrior