There's nothing better.
Nothing better than going through a tiring day, go home and cram through homework. To sit and ponder why you're so stupid, why you're unable to get things done in a good and quick way when you're sure you're capable of it. To yell at yourself for your tired eyes, eyes tired from staying up because of your idiotic brain, each afternoon screaming "More fun! More fun! Less work!" and yet to lay again on your bed and waste even more time.
To tell him all about it, to let him listen to you until you're done spitting out your misery on him, and hear his beautiful and marvelous advices. They come out as notes, notes of beautiful works of music that only some mysterious God could demand for; these marvelous works come from the same things that you look at everyday- the leaves of the trees, the hairs of the cat down the street, the sounds of the moving water of some pool, the mesmerizing green of a certain person's irises.
He talks to me through the power of a play button- and when he does, I realize there's nothing more beautiful than him, than his art, than his being and than his words. He gives me hope, he gives me faith, he tells me that I am indeed capable of turning myself into the being I've always wished to be. He tells me that the green eyes I long for could finally be mine if I finally accomplish what I've been working for. He breathes life to me through the flip of a coin that he lets me win, letting me know that I do have luck and that I do have a tomorrow to look forward to; he reminds me that it's not too late, not too late to sit down and dream. He brings me to sleep with graceful harmonies and wakes me up with soft splashes of water. I owe everything to this man. Everything. He brings me happiness at any time. He's what I live for, what makes the world beautiful. He does it only because he knows that I'll soon bring him back to life. Of course I will- how could I not, after all he did for me? How could I not...
There isn't anything more beautiful than him. He's everything at once. He's all I ever needed.
To tell him all about it, to let him listen to you until you're done spitting out your misery on him, and hear his beautiful and marvelous advices. They come out as notes, notes of beautiful works of music that only some mysterious God could demand for; these marvelous works come from the same things that you look at everyday- the leaves of the trees, the hairs of the cat down the street, the sounds of the moving water of some pool, the mesmerizing green of a certain person's irises.
He talks to me through the power of a play button- and when he does, I realize there's nothing more beautiful than him, than his art, than his being and than his words. He gives me hope, he gives me faith, he tells me that I am indeed capable of turning myself into the being I've always wished to be. He tells me that the green eyes I long for could finally be mine if I finally accomplish what I've been working for. He breathes life to me through the flip of a coin that he lets me win, letting me know that I do have luck and that I do have a tomorrow to look forward to; he reminds me that it's not too late, not too late to sit down and dream. He brings me to sleep with graceful harmonies and wakes me up with soft splashes of water. I owe everything to this man. Everything. He brings me happiness at any time. He's what I live for, what makes the world beautiful. He does it only because he knows that I'll soon bring him back to life. Of course I will- how could I not, after all he did for me? How could I not...
There isn't anything more beautiful than him. He's everything at once. He's all I ever needed.