So here's to the circus I was at the last call Touched for my heart could return unspoiled In an orphan fashion I stepped in Looked for an ear that'd care for my lies By no mean doubt about the gold of my silence Then sensed truth within my soul I knew I had no less chance and he preferred me And my fair promises So here's to the clowns today Guess a name a birthplace or a sign Does not reveal sadness or happiness Nor who hates who and who ignores what
Six months and something The means enlightens my purpose And I can go back in time # Here a man I'd call a man Your confessed doubts inner convictions I've suffocated enough for sin came by the gallon # First time I see you but you don't look down upon me I take pride and courage I dare to summon you To contradict and energize you Your heart is strong You stand still but no less sick # I ask forgiveness for that thought About sending your records to desolation Moving away your stage ending the family syndication I regret some rifle stories by the olive trees Oh lean on my shoulder, i ask Can I be even with the birds of your recollections Within my rights When I am still mocking them and you with them # Accept we are here, aren't we? We do dare, don't we? Happy we are You still have songs to like
Away sticks whistles gas and tears Away cupids boatmen jail builders middlemen How I hurt my face with a sword How back then I wasn't myself Purely and simply I'm healing this wound I settled my debts by the pond I tightened my flesh Arose on this new soil Grew up Made a fortune from my maid's womb Conquered and shifted wrong to right My own place of birth
They came they came Gathering at the democratic counter A load of paper please stand...in vain Soulless beauty for all that a clerk knows For all that the greater function cares Maybe the same blinks on a drumbeat memory Exotic laughter and power from above And the same bears no reverence for deep scars For such indelicate touch of poverty None shall pass On the path of chosen ones They come they come
Eyes on her mobile phone miss buddha smiles See now On tired straight frowning angular necks Faces of surprise Was it a fox in the wagon Happy as a tiger handing its paw For real Taking a mental ride through bookshelves My reader pretends and protests My time I can't get change for it My mother yawns in colours She imagines the forum We the quorum For less than a democracy We'll speak when we reach home on the last train
I, away and back, left my past dying here. I hate the family no more: My home like every home, house worth every house, I now feel where I belong. I'll walk the painfully long road only to know my place is behind me.