le vent souffla dans ce jardin aux pommes d’or
et tomba malade avant l’aube
il suffit jadis d'un grain de sable:
la licorne devint invisible
sauf son cœur
les yeux d’archæoptéryx
reflètent toujours l'image terrienne
des eaux d'en haut
tandis que l’hippogriffe dort
les ailes ouvertes devant
dans la fatigue d’être solitaire
i really don't think that i care
about what i care for
you make me doubt and dream
of a certain edge of the world
in every step i take
over the cliff
deep wounds are like broken bells
same sound but different
voices and wolves everywhere
you made me hate symbols
now i hate everything
that doesn't cry
i stay with you in me sometimes
until nothing happens
sometimes we wander for days
inside the ruins of myself
like an old ragtag band
the gardens where white boats still float upside down
in the clouds of your eyes
we dig for the last broken piece of your heart
in the magical town
in the beautiful mines
only to get lost and discover the ruby
was stolen in another century
by another indiana jones
I guess in the end I have learned to accept
to come back
with just only a handful of shards
and your smile
in my old ruined shack
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