I am the prisoner of beauty;
The elegance portrayed so deeply in the shades of flashing colours.
I am like a dog on chains again,
No other solid rhyme compels me
To override the pain.
No other words of passion,
Expressed in every language of the world
Can summarise simplicity of everlasting fame;
And smashing head against the metal bars,
I am the prisoner of bad-end game.
So call me Mr. Passion, dare me to play!
I know I lose just like in chess,
Where every movement’s played against the queen
To f*ck the big time king
And leave him in desolation.
Don’t tell me how to dive, I’ve drown before
In every word I’ve carved into my chest.
It’s a never-ending battle, player one,
I’ve placed the bets: eighty eight to one,
To do with agony away.
Your beauty - simply crashing
Avalanches on the bridge of clay.
But why am I still running? Playing still this game?
Well, because I’m used to losing…
I never learn my lessons, so let me face my fate!
I shall not turn the pages
And write the numbers down,
I am embracing all this pain
Just because I need to feel alive
And let the actions soar my throat.
What’s the use of laying down the carpet
Before your feet?
I keep on boiling all these futile passions
Just to overlap discussions
And save myself some time.
Yes, it floats in circling madness
And the walls are shutting tight.
Call me Mr. Poet, call me Mr. Drama!
I’ve put these pallets under my seat
And now watch me put some more.
But you should know that as the king,
I am surrounded by jesters,
Composing all these bullsh*t rhymes for me
And whispering so madly, sucking on my feet,
Conclusions with a dirty fee.
One day you’ll realise as well
When all your jesters flee,
You have nothing in the kingdom
But lifeless sacks of gold and burning feet.
Just like in chess you’ll end up with no queen.
And I shall have a pleasure
To watch the clouds burst their dust on me…
I have everything and nothing else to lose!
My kingdom’s empty, I can cast it all to flames
‘Cause here it’s empty: the kingdom does not hold your name.
.jpg)