I did not jump to cry papa! I did not hold your hand only to disappoint you.
On the way down, I admit I lost the muse, I no longer heard her voice, I got scared.
You cannot forgive me, fear became the reason, my reason.
So chase the butterfly while you have no reason to respond, while your lips are still red.
The lost soul crying father,
The prophet crying for mercy, he betrayed his own soul.
I wish I knew the reason, the meaning, the plot, the memory I never had, the one signalling tomorrow, letting the night rest, put a knife to my flesh.
Dull boy, service being. I would have driven the Ferrari into the wall, but the bastard hinted the wheel chair, portrayed the calculating machine, saw only time and would not love. I squashed the butterfly, trashed a beautiful thing, forgot a good thing... No, he did not forget, he got scared.
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