L'ivresse des Lucioles

Purple Nights

Sealed Letters - August Wilhelmsson

I'm absolutly amazed,

By how trembling life can be

When you act and seem like,

You've just given up

And lights, are non longer things that you live with

But you can still see them,

As sirens, drowned in the night

And feel them

And sculpt them, out of stone

Or maybe gold

If it happens that, it still matters to you

Seeing light shining everywhere, but on you

Or hearing people, when you're no longer with them

But, without any terror

Sometimes

It all means, art.

It leave my mind blank,

Full of what no one else could ever see

Of what's forever forgotten,

Or never known.

I see cars, driving themselves in the night

I see nights, that would never end

I see people,

Forgetting that they're living

Forgetting that I'm living

But I know that,

If they stared at me,

They could hear youth scream

And feel my cold gaze destroy them,

And their certitudes

A little bit more,

Each and every time.

I guess that's why they don't look at me

Why they never do

And existence, or creation,

Are all left behind

For some, it doesn't mean giving it up

It only means, life.