Leaning on the windowsill.
Why do they believe I\'m ill ?
The view is full of garbage.
This grayness can\'t be managed.
My safe and lonely house,
Too close to thousands of disasters.
Awful to look around there,
Awesome to sit right here.
Reality does not astonish anymore.
Are you still here or have you gone ?
To dream, to fantasize, to illustrate
Seems more attractive anyways.
You\'re here. You\'re close. I love you most.
But then I look behind,
Old-fashioned dusty mirror
There is no love.
There is no you.
There is no doubt that I am scattered in my mind.
There is no doubt my heart\'s deceased and blind.