Irreverent Elegy

My life is made of emotions,
Passions and horrors,
My temple is made of dark gloomy trees.

My life is made of emotions,
Passions and horrors,
'Cause when you truly live

‘Cause when you truly live you can even fall into deep pain
‘Cause when you truly live you can fall

My bed is made of small fresh leaves,
Moving slowly like a requiem.

My temple is made of dark gloomy trees,

My chant is a desperate and irreverent elegy,

Hordes of maleficent and false sins
Shall I ever let my mind wander over
The sad effect.
This filthy disease causes to my limbs
And to my heart?

I believe the persistence of the thin line
Of hope is worth this effort.
I believe its benefice can reach the intensity
Of full and perpetual delight.
Nothing is true, all is allowed.
Nothing is true, all is allowed.

In every dramatic situation there is
a subtended element
Of absurdity and humor.
Every dogma contains something
Unhealthy and corrosive.
And corrosive.

Our identities change every day with our memories.
We are not always what we really are, 'cause we reinvent ourselves.

We change our skin and consistence
And we lie with innocence, trusting our memory.
Trusting our memory.
Trusting our memory.