|my voice was weak before i ever spoke your name - it trembled and|
it stumbled over the nothings it spilt - and my eyes
then, my eyes were not jewels that shimmered they were just two
dull black stones that couldn't even dream in colour when they were closed.
before i knew you, i knew the world could be good and that
there were days worth waking for, and i figured it was
just some bad luck that i didn't see any goodness
and that my soul only found peace the rare times i could find sleep.
awake, i found worms dying in the dry grass and i saw
dogs with muzzles on their mouths and saw drunks with gun muzzles
in their mouths - there were children nailing whimpering animals to wooden
crosses and the houses on my street were all empty and
caving in on themselves - this was the way things were before
you came down and clouds cleared; my hands stopped shaking; my voice got strong.
Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien