Olive

Little child, hold on

One more hug before it's done

Your tears shall turn now to dust
Now keep half sentences unsaid

Little child, hold on
All those years you count are gone
Touch my face just one last time
Too much comfort will hurt us both

You dressed to match the eyes of your killer
We knew how this wound would grow
And you chose white over the gloom
Peace had a cost and you took it anyway

Little child, let go
Danger is what we paid for
End was nigh and we both knew
Hypocrisy can never smear

Little child, let go
Let me turn and close the door
No more scars to feed our pride
Wrong directions drove us to this

You dressed to match the eyes of your prey
We knew how this wound would grow
And you chose white over the gloom
Peace had a cost and you took it anyway

You chose the darkest night for murder
Oiled arms to let my hopes glide off
Smile away while you fly over disorder
The face of a little child shies on

You dressed to match the eyes of your prey
We knew how this wound would grow
And you chose white over the gloom
Peace had a cost and you took it anyway

(Oh, little child, hold on) eyes of your killer
We knew how this wound would grow
(Olive glow, let go) over the gloom
Peace had a cost and you wished for us away
Peace had a cost I was never meant to pay
Peace had a cost we blew right from the start
Peace had a cost and you swallowed anyway 

Seeker

Lost among the crossways on my path
Thought I might have seen a sign
Or just some light to guide me back alive
Every single choice has led me here

Then you show up
With your wisdom and your dark smoke
And lift me up
From my own grave, from the undertow...

And the options all lead to destruction
Pain that cannot be avoided though I try
You insist on being the bringer of desire
My breath gets thinner the closer you are

You seek salvation and truth
Blind to understand you are fire
You seek salvation and truth
Blind to understand you are death

Then you show up
With your wisdom and your dark smoke
And lift me up
From my own grave, from the undertow...

You seek salvation and truth
Blind to understand you are...

Freakazoid (by Silversun Pickups)

If you’re feeling paranoid

What the hell does that mean

You’d rather be alone

Anonymously

If I’m such a freakazoid

Unable to breathe

(breathe, breathe, breathe)

Do we move along

Or wait and see

I believe you’re trying

To keep us all from dying

Can I pull you home

Away from the middle of the road

Another safety zone

Another way to know

This freakazoid

Who needs a little relief

(relief, relief, relief)

Knows you’re not alone

And wants you to believe...

I believe you’re trying

To keep us all from dying

(Keep us all from dying)

I believe you’re crying

To keep this whole thing flying

(the whole thing comes out flying)

Oh me, oh my

It seems you might be lying

(Keeping us from dying)

I’ll keep on fighting

As long as you keep trying

(As long as you keep trying)

Once again with feeling

Once again with a little more love

Once again I believe

(believe, believe, believe)

That you’re paranoid

I’m a freakazoid

So let’s wait and see

I believe you’re trying

To keep us all from dying

(Keep us all from dying)

I believe you’re crying

To keep this whole thing flying

(The whole thing comes out flying)

Oh me, oh my

It seems you might be lying

(Keep us all from dying)

I’ll keep on fighting

As long as you keep trying

(As long as you keep trying)

Forest

Another little show of what's to come
Forgetting the path
Crossroads and none of them will save
Allowing some breath

Swinging the odds

In me
A fire that is willing to begin
And you
The forest that will crumble to the heat

Purple flames
Rising smoke
Purple stains
A heart that broke

Pasos

Él caminaba pensándose coquistador. Creía que sus pasos iban marcando nuevos territorios, que las piedras perdían su virginidad al ser tocadas por sus cotidianos zapatos. Como si fuesen tierras desconocidas las que transitaba. Ella recordaba cada tramo, pero él no quería entregarse a la idea.

Habían entregado todo hace pocos kilómetros sin importar la vista de algún desubicado turista, los dos temblaron por turnos. Hicieron la ruta de los demás mortales, aunque trataron de marcar su propio camino para justificar su ego desmedido.

Ya había pasado el intercambio. Ahora buscaban algo que los separe. El descubría ese paraje, casas, metales, carteles, un común barrio con un escenario montado para impresoonar a los descuidados. Él era eso, un  descuidado. Tras virar una esquina la realidad, se acabab el montaje y la absurda rutina de un pueblo cualquiera emergía lastimando su olfato.

Son esos cinco minutos de magia los que dan vida al relato. El sentimiento de ser único, primero, pionero. Eso eleva a toda alma de la futilidad de ser a la granduosidad de un amante, uno secreto pero imponente. Así justificaba el viaje, el riesgo y cualquier otro pretexto sin importancia. Era él un dios en ese momento.

Meses después entendería que fue el extra de turno en una obra condenada a las repeticiones eternas. Un actor que fracaso en su intento de dar significados de trascendencia ante la escena. Pobre títere que con el ideal de la improvisación pasaba lista en la prueba de evaluación. Si quería ser de ella debía actuar esa escena ya sin sentido del trayectovde las rieles y la estación secreta.

Nadie duda que su momento en escena fue grandioso y que dio todo de sí, hasta ella supo que era genuino. Probablemente de mejor desempeño que el anterior. ¿Prueba superada? Al menos mientras tuvo la idea de ser único lo tomó como un momento inolvidable, después simplemente pasó a la colección de sonrisas desteñidas de la memoria. Él ahí sintió amor aunque se lo hayan prohibido las reglas del cómplice juego, ese que sería la perdición de los dos.