The angels of the silences are quiet and yet restless
They don't invite me no more to depression
They don't drive me no more to void
We no longer battle.
Peace resides and yet a beast is boiling.
Nowadays the beast is silent and is not really aching to come out
Go to sleep little angel
Go to sleep little one
I still aim for a room to rest
and drink and test
the almost silent feast of the ice
against my drink
Not that I need it
Just 'cause I like it.
We're all under the gun
We all got mortages
We pay for the heavier ones
and put our ilusions on the cheapest ones.
silhouettes of make believe
things that we think that we may want
The same things I spend my life concerning about
I can't stop thinking about
I don't feel.
and everything I do feel.
I'm a step away from Jesus and he knows it
I'm almost on a feast of whatever he wants to invite me to
I'm not born again but maybe…
I was touched
by everything that dances within…
and everything that struggles without…..me.
People says I've changed
I'm no longer fun.
Introspective and silent.
They can't realize I'm putting my mind in order.
Something big is happening
and I don't know why or what.
But it's pleasant and I like it.
I'm coming back home.