Questo non è un diario. E' solo che ogni tanto non c'è spazio nella mia testa per tutti i pensieri e le emozioni. Sopraffatti da "cose mondane", spesso si dissolvono troppo in fretta, lasciandomi solo il vago ricordo di qualcosa di bello, o di brutto, che mi è sfuggito.
Non c'è una logica, non c'è una storia, non c'è nemmeno un'idea. Solo parole, che a volte possono anche disturbare. Solo perché, un giorno, vorrei poterle rileggere.
The sky is red, I don't understand,
past midnight I still see the land.
People are sayin' the woman is damned,
she makes you burn with a wave of her hand.
The city's a blaze, the town's on fire.
The woman's flames are reaching higher.
We were fools, we called her liar.
All I hear is "Burn!"
I didn't believe she was devil's sperm.
She said, "Curse you all, you'll never learn!
When I leave there's no return."
The people laughed till she said, "Burn!"
Warning came, no one cared.
Earth was shakin', we stood and stared.
When it came no one was spared.
Still I hear "Burn!"
You know we had no time,
we could not even try.
You know we had no time.
[...]