GenesisPs egna texter

some children like to play
in the snow
and some adults like
snow up their noses
pretty much the same i guess,
buried in that sweet feeling
of forgetfulness

like love gone bad or
weeds instead of a heart
anyway,
faces change every passing
year so play on,
have your place in the light
while you can,

blow it up!

there are no images anymore of me
in him
just an ordinary person
boring and borderline
to disturb his sleep and peace

my heart sees traces in the night
seeks that proof of him
being here
still
my passion is lingering
and my fingers burning

because i remember every memory
everything of him
his tattered banners and perfect madness
our wine, knives and sex

a rat may claim it's all going to be okay
to comfort that stupid side of me
but today were bright and black

with "why" so clear
and violent in the day
rape being awake;

i don't understand a fucking thing