Pieces

At first, they were bits of songs, sometimes hateful and sometimes wise, I felt were worth writing down but, with time, it became a piece in itself.

Pieces

Webster's New World Dictionary,

Piece : 1. a part broken or separated from the whole

2. a section of a whole regarded as complete in itself.

- Save me, save me from myself.

- Reach out your hand and I’ll be healed.

- Bind and twirl the dance of souls trying endlessly to connect.

- Not even what I feel.

- The only thing that’s real is the pain I feel.

- A moment, I see !

is this your reality ?

You never even tried to talk to me.

- Solitude kills my soul,

bitterness eats me whole.

Nice little android there’s something wrong.

I scream to be real in a world I don’t believe in. Yes and you end up believing, just as I do sometimes, that no one wants your fucken love!
No, no one wants your fucken love, no one wants your fucken love.

Fuck me, Fuck you,

I did nothing too.

Fuck me, Fuck you,

left her there on the park bench.

Fuck me, Fuck you,

I could have offered her more, I could have spoken.

Walked away, too shy to offer her my friendship. Cursing myself on the long way home, I’m just like the others: a cowardly android drowning in our fucken apathy.

It’s a strange world, and I feel fine.

It’s a strange world, I think it’s mine.

I don’t need to scream anymore.

It’s a strange world,

and I feel so high, I’m alive !

I'm a fool and I wish to die,

cause all alone I'm growing old.

It took me years to find the words,

the written screams of pain and anger.

This child was walking lonely.

~ Paralysis ~

Stuck here,

me and myself.

Stuck here,

holding myself.

I wish I would lose my grip,

and fall down again at your feet...

You can't hear me,

but I'm screaming.

J'ai la rage au coeur

Ai-je le courage de lever la tête

pour laisser éclater mes couleurs

Je rève d'un monde au mille et une couleurs

Nous sommes tous des créateurs.

It just feels like futility,

this anger inside of me.

Is there anything I can create,

can I fight the men of hate.

The stupidity, the hate, ah !

The cruelty of man;

the injustice of this world !

I'm trying hard to understand,

so that one day I will take a stand.

The problem is not the world outside,

it's the way it makes me feel inside.

I see families, but I can't relate.

I see love that I can only imagine.

Normal people with normal lives,

I feel so fucken weird.

Solitude, that I understand.

Misery makes sense to me.

I hate my life,

not enough to die, (slow sad)

but enough to change it!

Fuck your illusions,

superficial playgrounds.

No true relations,

a handshake and a smile.

My soul is screaming to change this bullshit.

If we can create so much hell,

then we can surely create some heaven.

I will not fire the bullet,

so I'll fire up a song.

I will not throw my life away,

so I'll throw a song up to the skies.

* * *

* Copyright - The texts above cannot be used in whole or in part without the consent of Michaël Lessard responding to miclesgeo[at]yahoo.com or 1-418-254-6448 (no.225). If both the e-mail and phone number fail, this means I have died and you must ask the living person in charge of my belongings (refer to the Quebec-Canada government).

Hint : I would like some of my texts to be used by actual bands.