I like to write the story of my life on air,
Maybe because I am now deprived of both, life and the air,
My strokes get more harmonious after the first twenty laps
It seems the older I grow the more I look like the champs?
Head down, head up, then down and up again until I get numb
Craving hope in the ceiling back down I look dumb
My mind is imprisoned in the vicious cycle of repetitions
My soul’s struggle rather looks like wasteful alterations
I like to end it here, where it all started
Where I swam all the nine months in the peaceful fluid
Now my strokes are weaker so is my living motivation
I am starting to enjoy my air depravation
So I am sinking in, giving the life back to its source
I am lost in the enjoyment of dying, anonymous
I am in peace with death, I have a love affair with her face
I want to give her a kiss that sucks the air from my roots to the surface
As I am getting closer to her, the kid in me is going crazy
He is dragging me back, begging me to stay
His innocent eyes are full of water
His heart is about to come out of his chest
Now I am in hell, sitting in between, wondering where should I head?
My end is steps away, my beginning is pulling my shirt
This time when I looked up I saw farther than the ceiling
I don’t dare to say what, because I no more trust in believing
I looked away back to the bottom of the pool,
but now I heard it, laud and clear in my ears
Va ja-alna menal mae-e kollo shay-en hay!
We revived everything from the tears
Rendd, Winter of 09
