Pierrot the Clown

Leave me dreaming on the bed

See you right back here tomorrow

for the next round

Keep this scene inside your head

As the bruises turn to yellow

The swelling goes down



And if you're ever around

In the city or the suburbs of this town

Be sure to come around

I'll be wallowing in sorrow

Wearing a frown

Like Pierrot the Clown



Saw you crashing round the bay

Never seen you act so shallow

Or look so brown

Remember all the things you'd say

How your promises rang hollow

As you threw me to the ground



And if you're ever around

In the backstreets or the alleys of this town

Be sure to come around

I'll be wallowing in pity

And wearing a frown

Like Pierrot the Clown



When I dream I dream of your lips

When I dream I dream of your kiss

When I dream I dream of your fistsYour fists...Your fists



Leave me bleeding on the bed

See you right back here tomorrow for the next round

Keep this scene inside your head

As the bruises turn to yellow

The swelling goes down



And if you're ever around

In the city or the suburbs of this town

Be sure to come around

I'll be wallowing in sorrow

And wearing a frown

Like Pierrot the Clown

Like Pierrot the Clown

Like Pierrot the Clown

Like Pierrot the Clown

Like Pierrot the Clown





every single day feels like a dream away from reality ,
like miss understood minned antithg
ever minute you last , every minute you breathe ,
if you dont have air , you will never cant breathe.
its like dont have sences , feelings, to something that you just cant explain or fix.
as if your body was possessed, or you just instinctively move
and just live, like there was nothing and you just take for taken





e oido de esas personas que son reclusas de sus propios sentimientos , que por mas que tratan de mostrarse, se opacan , con los errores comunes que surgen cuando mentalmente duermen y hacen, como si fueran zombies soñando que hacen algo, ellos viven constantemente en un ciclo(ensueño), un ciclo constante en el que o son sus sentimientos y valores o es simplemente todo hecho por una constante fortaleza creada tardia de los años, involuntariamente actuan y residen en un yo interior , donde no se reconocen y se estancan en un mundo, un mundo donde solo crean , su dolor, su amargura y su ironia. o al contrario la tardia, lo milagroso lo omniopotente.



esas personas parecen estar totalmente fuera de control inestables a la realidad, involuntarios a sus actos, activistas independientes, tanto que son independientes de sus enagenaciones confusas, indagaciones rencorosas abrumantes que se aislan en las entrañas mas opuestas que no todo el mundo es capaz de comprender. cuando existe esa confusion tan irrelevante no existe respuesta congruente que pueda ayudarlo, ya que es un ser inestable congetivamente , anclado en sus ideas que tienen cambios constantes, ya que nunca son las mismas, solo el sabe cuales prevalecen.












but the more i grow, the less i know


and i have so many lives


tough im not old...


and the more i see, the less i grow, the fewer the seeds the more i sow.....