If the streets could talk,
They'd tell me they miss me.
They'd stand by the windows of hell,
And speak of how warm my clumsy footsteps felt on their asphalt.
"We forgive you," they'd say
"For putting out cigarettes on the pavement."
Come out,
Come out,
You never were one to be imprisoned.
If the streets could walk,
They'd come into my house and beneath my balcony,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, throw your strings of thoughts!"
I'd hear when the lights go out,
And I'd let the streets in through the window,
We'd smoke cigarettes like old friends
And reminisce on memories we never made.
But they can't.
So my balcony remains unattended,
and my story untold.
For I'm not worthy of "once upon a time"s if no magic is to partake its role in my play.
My play is not a fairy tale,
Nor can it be a Shakespearean tragedy,
or a Greek mythology,
For no one wept for my spirit,
And there's no one to avenge for.
There's no magic here.
My eyes will never be the sleepless moons they thought they'd become,
And standing in dusty storms will not turn me into mars.
I'm the bastard bearing of Gaia,
The child Uranus would never claim.
Yet I'm their only heir of despair,
Their solo bearer of war.
So if solitude was evil,
I must be morningstar.
So I'll play me the first tune Lilith ever played for Lucifer,
Sing myself satanic lullabies;
Perhaps they'd put my loneliness to sleep.
And when its dawn,
I'll wake up to finding that I
Made me a swing on the forbidden tree,
And I'll name it after myself,
I'll call it rebellion.
And when our father who art in heavens comes back home to find the mess we made,
We wouldn't think his wrath would far exceed his mercy,
But it might,
Yet we wouldn't mind being exiled from heavens,
For there's freedom in descending.
Unbeknownst to me,
There was no magic on earth.
I'm not one to be saved by a fairy godmother,
Or a biblical miracle.
My prayers aren't heard,
And my existence unnoticeable even to god's gaze.
I was there,
When King David passed by,
I was there.
But as he walked through the valley of the shadow of death,
My calls went unheard,
It was then when I realized,
I was the shadow and the valley was mine.
If the trees could talk,
Maybe the ones that fall in the forest and no one hears would matter.
And I would weigh to something.
But they can't.
So I am here,
And when I hang myself in the forest,
And no one sees it,
And no crows feast on my corpse,
And the wind refuses to scatter my skin,
I am not really there.
I'm nowhere to be found,
Not in books or campfire stories,
Not in winds or oceanic waves,
Not in forests, nor in hangman nooses,
Or shrines, or ruins...
But in my unattended balcony,
Where neither god, nor magic are present.
They'd tell me they miss me.
They'd stand by the windows of hell,
And speak of how warm my clumsy footsteps felt on their asphalt.
"We forgive you," they'd say
"For putting out cigarettes on the pavement."
Come out,
Come out,
You never were one to be imprisoned.
If the streets could walk,
They'd come into my house and beneath my balcony,
"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, throw your strings of thoughts!"
I'd hear when the lights go out,
And I'd let the streets in through the window,
We'd smoke cigarettes like old friends
And reminisce on memories we never made.
But they can't.
So my balcony remains unattended,
and my story untold.
For I'm not worthy of "once upon a time"s if no magic is to partake its role in my play.
My play is not a fairy tale,
Nor can it be a Shakespearean tragedy,
or a Greek mythology,
For no one wept for my spirit,
And there's no one to avenge for.
There's no magic here.
My eyes will never be the sleepless moons they thought they'd become,
And standing in dusty storms will not turn me into mars.
I'm the bastard bearing of Gaia,
The child Uranus would never claim.
Yet I'm their only heir of despair,
Their solo bearer of war.
So if solitude was evil,
I must be morningstar.
So I'll play me the first tune Lilith ever played for Lucifer,
Sing myself satanic lullabies;
Perhaps they'd put my loneliness to sleep.
And when its dawn,
I'll wake up to finding that I
Made me a swing on the forbidden tree,
And I'll name it after myself,
I'll call it rebellion.
And when our father who art in heavens comes back home to find the mess we made,
We wouldn't think his wrath would far exceed his mercy,
But it might,
Yet we wouldn't mind being exiled from heavens,
For there's freedom in descending.
Unbeknownst to me,
There was no magic on earth.
I'm not one to be saved by a fairy godmother,
Or a biblical miracle.
My prayers aren't heard,
And my existence unnoticeable even to god's gaze.
I was there,
When King David passed by,
I was there.
But as he walked through the valley of the shadow of death,
My calls went unheard,
It was then when I realized,
I was the shadow and the valley was mine.
If the trees could talk,
Maybe the ones that fall in the forest and no one hears would matter.
And I would weigh to something.
But they can't.
So I am here,
And when I hang myself in the forest,
And no one sees it,
And no crows feast on my corpse,
And the wind refuses to scatter my skin,
I am not really there.
I'm nowhere to be found,
Not in books or campfire stories,
Not in winds or oceanic waves,
Not in forests, nor in hangman nooses,
Or shrines, or ruins...
But in my unattended balcony,
Where neither god, nor magic are present.
