Today I can’t feel how many crows stand on me
I like them singing, my favourite soundtrack in moments of fall
I have been leaving streets behind
for hundred years since I have lost every hope to move
out of town into another ground hole
far from this place so crowd and cold.
Flex me right, flex me left
renounce wind the claim to uproot my belief
the more I fold myself, the more I’m getting strong
inside the pride of a life lived upright.
oh, I feel to scream, I see a woman crying for love
she wants to cut a male name across my bark
why don’t you spray a house wall and please let me alone
I can’t speak but I am alive too.
Wrapped by the wood dust
men from the sewer approaching me
wind plays like instruments sharp steel blades
as I realise there aren’t oaks, nor elms, nor shrubs
nothing but stupid grass all around ................. the end!
Cut me gently, cut me fast
don’t let all these children be witness of my death
many times my roots sustained the weight of their parent’s flesh
many times my twigs were the place where to play
Sink your saw
cut off all my nerves
so that mr. Jones should find out another silent friend
perhaps his newspaper’s news will take now a bitter look
no more observatory to envy other's joy
Now I’m dressed like a bride, I’m the pride in the dining
room
snow white clothes cover me
candles cry as for my fate
hot wax tears on my grains
after all it could be much worse
I knew a pine now some toothpicks
Hear the scream from your furniture,
flat parquets, entrance doors, guitar necks
... wish you all a sunstroke....
Today I can’t feel how many crows stand on me |