Limelight

In a sudden sprinkling moment in absence of time,

Our ears and eyes seem to twinkle and rhyme.

In a flash I can almost touch the open gate,

Until I feel I’m already to late

I stretched out my arms to feel what is near,

Waiting for my queen of the limelight to appear.

To observe your interior like color TV-screen,

To wander through regions I’ve never been.

Tell me where I can cross the river, where I can reach the line,

Beyond which we can say there’s no your and no mine.

Tell me is there a way to find you without a name or a face

In place where we’re assured (there are) no hour or days.

When I look into the ocean, I can say what’s in it,

I try to read your mind, but never catch your spirit.

Surely I believe when you say you’re happy now,

But your aren’t able to let me know how

That’s the default of language, spoken and written down,

Even a million words keep spinning around.

Like watching through a window on a winter day,

I can warm my home with the idea you’re to stay.

End of the line

Hold in your breath now,

for there is choice enough.

A cradle, that will never,

cease from giving,

or dry up.

Vodka and wine and whisky at night,

there’s no doubt this bottle is mine.

Oh no, it wasn’t me,

who took the last slice,

of the pie.

Think of something more.

Live for something more.

Dream of motorcars,

standing at your door.

Visions of plenty,

of what you want.

Is it the shareholders?

Is it what they command?

Stand still; you’re running towards the edge.

Look out; you’re leaping over the ledge.

May I have some more machines in?

Fill my tank with gasoline please?

Give me my holiday, my will to pay and feel OK.

Run to the record store.

Get some and get some more.

Trust me I know the score – End of the line.

Stand still; you’re running towards the edge.

Look out; you’re leaping over the ledge.

Boy, where’s my limousine?

Alcohol and nicotine.

I want my television and my Hollywood-incision.

Run to the liquor store.

I need it more and more.

What else is money for? – End of the line.

Gambling Species

There’s something perfect to us!

We’ve got everything in place.

There’s something dreadful to us!

We’re always behind in the race.

Cause we are heading to our burial place!

Evolution of the human race.

There’s something perfect to us!

We’re the worlds leading ace.

There’s something dreadful to us!

We can’t appreciate their slow pace.

Now that we have come this far.

Sharing the same global thoughts.

We are one and one we are.

Our behavior doesn’t suit this thought.

The human brain a slightly in size.

Then our predecessors, we learned to realize.

We have choice and common sense.

Gambling with it we throw the dice.

This is the way we humans live.

We are a part of nature.

We are intelligent, proudly we give.

Our visions on how to build a culture.

Maybe we’ve been here to long.

For our character, earth pay’s the price.

To negative you say, I could be wrong.

But you also have throwed the dice.

Of Hope and Glory

Behold! They go to war,

See their armour shining bright.

Soon, you’ll hear the horns

When the knights ride out to fight.

Far away, in a distant land, a city lies,

of gold.

Of dark and wicked men, who’ll die.

That’s what they told.

We march, for battle calls,

Rain and wind, they wash and weep.

The sun, he burns our days,

And the stars prevent our sleep.

Young boys of the banner white, they dream of fights,

to come.

Though hardly shaped or scarred, hold out,

and then march on.

When he called, they came.

There are none to blame.

If you try to breathe,

He will make you bleed.

Fear no foe, no fear.

Think of rape and beer.

If you think of home,

You’ll feel more alone.

A man said my name, I had to obey

A ‘forward’ in enemy’s land.

Around me there’s men, roaring and flames.

And me, with a sword in my hand.

What a waste, so young…

…but there’s nothing wrong.

‘Come my lad’, free plundering he said,

for the good man who foresees his fate.

Songs occur, a memory’s stirred,

of a melody, too late.

What a waste, so young…

…but there’s nothing wrong.

Strike and kill, fulfil the king’s will.

Run through and pull back, and start over again.

Among the fire, a necessity, dire.

From chipping come chips, even if it’s the end.

Among the tents I walk,

All mixed up, and all alone.

Mum will, be proud of me,

When I get back…home  

Few survived, but I’ve got my sword,

my life and what is worth,

the honour of my lord,

Who lies there, in the dirt.  

Then the last guard who’s standing there,

He cries out loud:

‘They’re back!’

Then a rider comes right for me,

A voice that shouts ‘attack’.