Toreador's Cave
Wednesday, 10 May 2023
Monday, 14 June 2021
The Eighth Day
But sometimes I feel trapped, in a day that don't exist.
Every now and then, I just wish there was another day in the week. Does another day make a difference? I guess not. It is just an extra day to escape life, escape responsibility and reality. To have an extra day, not needing to make a decision.
While you can argue that everyday can be that day, us humans just like putting a meaning behind everything. Each day has a meaning, something we give to that day so it makes sense.
Wednesday, 17 February 2021
Winter Stars
To the rooftop and counting stars
Past and future don’t matter that much
Three rounds in a soho pub
Getting drunk alone is as good as high
Lost and found people on the way
Can’t relive those summer days
Midnight driving and a cigarette awake
Half conscious wishing you were here with me
Most nights staring at the winter sky alone
Hoping somewhere there’s a place for us
Seven years back and forth
Every song screams your name
Oh I have to let go someday
Another drink pour me in
City lights shine as bright
Hoping one day you’ll see
Just a day or two with you
Before I learn to go with the tide
Once I called you mine
Now you are just another stranger across the road
Fireworks from Rear Window
Blooming in the sky left nothing behind
Sad you weren’t by my side
Even though I pictured it over and over again
Didn’t see you walk away from my rear window
Didn’t know we’d simply burn out by the end
Do you remember that Wednesday night?
Waved you off screaming see you tomorrow
Maybe it’s better off to leave it in the spring
I’m the only one who stayed behind
Wish it was that easy, wish you were any other
Starry sky just looks better in your wide eyes
Sorry I didn’t mean to act that way
Couldn’t help myself, couldn’t resist
Does she wear blue better than I did?
Will she wear white while exchanging rings?
Friday, 27 November 2020
I Wish We Wouldn't End Up Like This, but I'll Never Know.
I can already see us breaking into pieces, because my heart is just not ready to be settled - it probably never will. You are from that good nice caring family, having a mother who'd want nothing more than you living a stable life. I'll never be the one who can give you that life.
I'm born to run, I'm born to break other people's heart.
Sometimes I'd like to picture us in 10 years time, you'll always be behind me and supporting my wildness and craziness. But I just can't see that turning into reality. I live what you called higher class life, love those extra things. Never fail to admit that I'm a drama Queen. Those arguments, those sassiness, I just can't live without them. It's hard for me to see myself out of a big city - I currently am, and it's killing me inside. I miss the city lights, the busy tube runs, the sirens that screams so lord made me panic. Not used to this calm countryside kind of life, probably never will get used to it either.
Want to be next to you, but also want to live in freedom again. I am a monster half of the time, even me hate myself.
Friday, 13 November 2020
Pandora's Box
Home is 17
Found a faded Polaroid
In the pocket of my ripped jeans
Next to a train ticket that's a-few-year old
Memories flooding back
It was an afternoon like this
Faded blue, lawless teens
So bottom up to those years
Sun never set in that seaside town
Dancing under a starry sky
How you kissed me on my right eye
Ice on ice running in the wind
Crossed my heart and crossed my mind
Would you take me back to 17
Would you?
Barely ever think about it
My wasted youth in the pouring rain
Won't admit I belong to anywhere
I might be a hypocrite
Wrote this on a London train
Fearless days, autumn air
Can you hear me?
Same place, different people
Same teens, forever feeble
From the eyes of a Gemini
I can't go back.
Said goodbye to those years
Staring at the past with running tears
Used to dance all night long
Wasting youth was nothing wrong
Ice on ice we were running wild
Dreaming of hope being exiled
I could never run back to 17
But memories are evergreen.
Cause home is 17.