In a world of patterns i see me
and i realize that there is not a right path
fighting desires and fears i ask myself
what am I going to think about everything in the end?

one feet falls after the other without a purpose
the floor is cold, I feel my body in the traffic
parked, stagnant, inert
but out of this mess, my mind is dreamy
I move constantly, full of life

each living being canalizes its pain
somehow tries to express his image
while passing through the landscape
tries to find itself and understand
that the universe is much bigger
and there's no need to stress about it (maybe there is)

contradiction suffocates me
reflection opens the window (i see) of the mind
and suddenly

everything makes a bit of sense
everything makes sense a little bit more

they wants to regulate us
society tries to fit us in their rules
kill the week to live the end
and in this small time that a few have
the couch is the most dwelled place

alienated, during the break, torture itself thinking
about things no one really wants to think about

they rather seem, than being
buy your own paradox
die to live, pretend to live

and no longer have time to think about...