we hold tight to the ghosts
in the stories,
we do everything
that we can to keep them alive.
we take turns in turning the pages,
in reading the words,
in showing the pictures,
the failures and the wait,
those days have past
set sail towards somewhere
we will come to fast.
we hold tight to bits of the past,
bits that keep the days
from aging that fast.
we take turns in setting the course,
what borders to cross
and what places to head to.
with their threads and regrets
and the guns that they pull
when they see
that you're on your way
out from this house that's on fire.
from fights you keep losing,
that's just a last try for the sand
not to slip through their hands.
and with hundreds of words,
they keep holding you back
and with promises
that they keep you off track,
but you're better than that
and you're better off happy
than waking up guilty of faults
and mistakes that never were real
the failures and the wait,
those days have past
set sail towards somewhere
we will come to fast.
the failures and the wait,
those days have past
set sail towards somewhere
we will come to fast.
with our hands tied to,
weights that pull
and drag towards dark waters
with our hands tied to,
ropes reaching for depths
from which we can't come back
with our hands tied to,
weights that pull
and drag towards dark waters
if yours are looser tied,
loosen mine and bring us back
back up
with our hands tied to,
weights that pull
and drag towards dark waters
with our hands tied to,
ropes reaching for depths
from which we can't come back
with our hands tied to,
weights that pull
and drag towards dark waters
if yours are looser tied,
loosen mine and bring us back