I ain’t nothing like the next one
and think outside all the boxes,
standing up while you’re sitting down,
embracing my many losses.
Yet the sponge where my heart should be,
once so damp is now getting dry.
Used it to clean my memories
of the dust that had settled down.
June the 10th is an appointment
with them damn fantoms of the past;
a conversation with myself
to understand where all went south.
What’s so happy about birthdays
that makes you crave to celebrate?
Hungry for the fakest wishes,
Illusions on a silver plate.
Bring me the cake, keep the candles
and let me catch my breath instead.
Seems like I have one last attempt
to get my heels back over head.
Let me stand still in dull silence,
Let the world try to decipher
what is muttered in defiance,
what has been told and yet unheard.
and it’s already gone.
See you next year, happy birthday,
I’ll pretend none of it happened
and play the game life wanna play,
Alas we‘re lame at it my friend.