The nonsense hides his face behind tree's knee.

Bit by bit words open to me.

 

I open the fridge.

Relax.

 

Talk to God. Or to somebody up there.

The point of this all is missing.

 

Won't make fun of the serious thing.

No words talk about it.

 

Lack of love?

 

If your slam the door behind you, does the tension break?

Pointless?

 

Tolerance.

Solidarity.

 

White in the night.

Hear the rainbows talk,

the clouds walk.

 

Cheers me up.

 

She smiles and so do I.

Don't have to know why.

 

 

I'm lying with books and paper.

The point is to be yourself.