A little bird told me that in the end everything’s gonna be OK. But I didn’t believe a single tweet coming out of his beak. Cause it feels like my voice shuts down every time I dare to sing. Like speakers stuck on mute, like you strangled by the tie of your suit. I hate it when I write cheques my vocal chords can’t cash. I hate it when I sing so bad my treasure is another man’s trash. When my voice sounds like my fingernails are scratching on the blackboard. When the bass drops on my favorite song and I can’t get this Bad Boy done. When your throat is dry and your forehead is wet. When the pressure’s so high your guts have left. When the struggle is real and the smile is fake. Covered in sweat, craving for help. Frozen but your hands have melt, Shaking like it’s Harlem shake. Your heart beats like it’s Dubstep. No escape. No escape. Do you ever feel like you’re not in the game? Do you ever sing like puberty strikes again? Do you ever wish the stage had a fire escape? A little bird told me that in the end it’s all the same. No loser as long as you play on different games. Cause I can’t compare to those who stare at me Like “Who’s that dude? Is that an enemy?”. They starve for one more Grammy, I crave for some sympathy. They were born with a microphone, I was raised to keep quiet. I’ve been working my fingers to the bone to get half the skills they already had. I do not only sing off key, I lost the bunch of keys. But them they’re so good even when they fart they stay in tune. And I ain’t no rapper, I ain’t no singer. I’m just some dude slapping on a small guitar, Striking my piano with only my middle finger As hard as I’m dumb and God knows I’m not clever. I was looking for a needle in a haystack But all this time it was stuck in my windpipe. I look for a sign, I can’t ignore the fact That I’m not gonna find it in the bottom of my bottle of Jack. It don’t matter if it don’t sound great. I’m gonna sing my heart out I’m gonna need a graft. It does not matter how long it takes Until I get a handshake with some Barack. I’m gonna sing so loud they gonna hear me out Form here to Spain, from outer space. No escape. No escape. But I don’t want to run away. Do you ever feel like you’re not in the game? Do you ever sing like puberty strikes again? Do you ever wish the stage had a fire escape?

I met an old man walking down the road, On the home straight, straight to home. Gone for years, way too long to a place he does not belong. He forgot the heart beats under the uniform, He forgot the heart ticks like a time bomb. Against the wind, about to be blown, like a speck of dust stuck in the storm. And the cyclones are breaking his bones, But he doesn’t care how much it’s gonna cost. An arm and a leg, or maybe more. It does not matter anymore. Hopes and faith become a heavy load, I’m afraid he falls short of his goal. It’s like watching Game of Thrones: not sure he’ll be on the next episode. How many countries did he cross? How many worlds? How many time zones? How many times did he almost give up on hopes, give up the ghost? Looking for the love he lost, he doesn’t really have the choice: No backup plans and the main one is full of holes. Ripped pants, torn coat, cold like never before. Haunted to the core, no bandage can cover this open sore. Animal corpse on the side of the road, it can make the boldest man’s blood run cold. The way is paved but trapped like a no-man’s land. No turning back, stuck in quicksand. You know life is time and time is gold: the old man has never been that poor. Carry on. Carry on. Smash the heaven’s door. He’s not lonely, he’s just alone. On the home straight, straight to home. Falling like a teardrop, he prays for the storm to stop, Feels a pain in the chest like he just been shot. Stumbles, chokes, collapses on the blacktop, Digs a little deeper right after rock bottom. Loneliness can kill the most courageous man’s tenacious soul, Little by little, like a flower slowly frozen by the frost. All alone, on his own, call 911 but no one answer the phone. Lying the cold ground, the old man is running out of time. I still don’t know why I was around, I took the old man in my arms. And whispered quietly: ‘Everything’s gonna be alright’. I still don’t know why I was around, I looked the old man in the eye And swore on my life: ‘’Everything’s gonna be alright”. He’s not lonely, he’s just alone. On the home straight, straight to home.

The roof is falling apart. Scattered windows, explosive glass. I’m too old for this stuff. World War I, good old times. Ain’t it plain to see? 80-year-old granny Only needs some sleep, only needs some peace. This so-called music, it’s driving me sick, Give me my pills cause I can hear them sing: Let’s get a sonotone when we are older. No time for break, they gonna break my neck, An earthquake a day, it’s more than I can take. Blaze the place and fire the rest Before they reproduce, before they lay eggs. Wow. It’s getting down. I let you spread the gas if you let me scratch the match, It’s a hitch that can’t be scratched, The glitch in the system that can’t be patched. Hold my stick and hold me back. When you attack Granny, GRANNY STRIKES BACK. Knock knock, I’m gonna knock you out, So I can get back to my nap. Stop. Keep quiet. Even silence is way too loud. They gonna keep playing until the sunrise, Or until the first revolving light. So bad my fake flowers died. So bad I thought my dog barked. So loud my sonotone can crack, But that would be not that bad. Ain’t got no mercy. I’m not peaceful like I’m supposed to be. I’m gonna smash the door, take their guitars and slap them all, cause I hear them sing: Let’s get a sonotone when we are older.

Tomorrow comes, tomorrow goes. Yesterday feels like ages away. Twenty days since we left the shore, and I know for sure that the Captain knows The way through the night with no end, the way to the promised land. Chasing a fleeting ghost: the Lighthouse that never glows. He’s the Captain of a boat too strong to sink, Fighting the storms, riding the seas, filling the void of hopeless dreams. I’m the parrot on his shoulder repeating every order. I make his wisdom echo forever. Break the line and fight the tide, only dead fish go with the flow. Stuck in nowhere for so long Hell looks like a good place to go. He said the lighthouse someday will glow. Stake it all and more on this roll, hope it ain’t blowing smoke. Cause I feel we drift away. From the sea we used to sail. From the crest of faithful waves. I feel we drift away. On the day 48, or maybe more. The rain does not wet anymore. Hopes have fell overboard and sink like they were tied to an anchor. Half the crew’s gone insane but the Captain stayed the same, We are all in the same boat that barely floats, don’t know where it goes, don’t know how to row. Just feel the beat of his wooden leg. Just feed the beast, release the Kraken. Standing proud, one patched eye, the other one staring at the skyline. But I don’t see a single reason I should see on the horizon The tiny shinny point lighting the way to the exit of this oceans prison. The shoulder I relied on is now the one I cry on. That’s how the story goes: the Lighthouse that never glows. Break the line and fight the tide, only dead fish go with the flow. Stuck in nowhere for so long Hell looks like a good place to go. He said the lighthouse someday will glow. Stake it all and more on this roll, hope it ain’t blowing smoke. Cause I feel we drift away. From the sea we used to sail. From the crest of faithful waves. I feel we drift away. I stopped counting the days. We left so long ago. So long seasons passed away, so long God has lost his faith. Whatever happen next I’m on my own. Guess the boat was less hard than those sharpy stones. Every breeze is storm now, every drop is flood. The rain is stabbing my back, it’s clouding my view. I’m out of sight, I’m out of light, I’m out of hope I can hold tight. Feels like even if the stars align it won’t be enough to shine. But even if I lose my eyes, if the dark hugs the light, Even if the night goes blind, it got nowhere to hide. Tiny wings don’t fail me now, I’mma fly till you can flap. Find the Lighthouse and burn it down.

Wake up this morning by falling off the wrong side of the bed. Can’t find my clothes, can’t find my brain, guess I got wasted again. The alarm clock looks at me like ‘Dude you are so late’. I snooze, I lose and I spill my booze everywhere. Try to focus but my thoughts are in slow motion, I don’t know about the city but I’m in the state of intoxication. Hard digestion, a smell of triple distillation, Some leftover bourbon, but no time for a celebration. Oh my job, if I see my God, I’m gonna lose my boss. (No) Oh my God, if I see my boss, I’m gonna lose my job. (Yes) I don’t even have just a second for a cigarette, I better find an aspirin and heal that headache. All of the sudden I see a scary silhouette, my time has come, I’m gonna die today. No. It’s just my big fat cat, it is blocking the way. Looks at me like ‘Human, feed me now!’. So I pick up my baseball bat and get ready. Home Run. Head Shot. Nap Time. A day may come when I give a damn. But today is not this day. A day may come when I give a damn. But today is not this day. Hey. Take it easy. That’s a job for future me. A day may come when I give a damn. But today is not this day. Despite the fact that I am intact, I’m desperate. Close to death I saw the light, but I can’t remember it. Pick up my pockets, look for credit card tickets. My memory is like a secret that no one wants to tell. Ssh. Flashback, six packs and I don’t talk about abs. Four jacks, ten shots, and I feel like I’m a jet pack. But the flight may be good, the landing is painful. I’d rather grab some food but I don’t feel like I’m in the mood. Moves coming from my bedroom, getting close soon, my heart goes boom. She’s kind of beautiful, it only happens once in a blue moon. Wow, she was like an angel lost in the dust of my flat. Wow, I do poesy now, but ain’t nobody got time for that. I’m like: “Hope you like scrambled eggs and a slice of smoky bacon in the morning Sweet Sugar. Just kidding just take your stuff, the bus stop is around the corner.” She wants to stay, I need to get out, so I pick up my baseball bat. Home Run. Head Shot. Nap Time. A day may come when I give a damn. But today is not this day. A day may come when I give a damn. But today is not this day. Hey. Take it easy. That’s a job for future me. A day may come when I give a damn. But today is not this day. 3PM in the morning. On my way to the office. I sneak in the building like a ghost not to see my bosses. Get into the open space, I’d rather use my poker face, They want to see me working, so I lock the door “just in case”. Phone is ringing all the time, it sounds like a sweet lullaby. So tired I fall asleep and dream about taking a nap. No chance I gonna react even with a thousand thunderclaps, Even if the strongest lumberjack scratches my back with his big axe. The dullest crayon in the box. I spend my day staring at the clock. Frames of me on the wall : I’m the worst employee every month. They should have read between the two lines of my resume. They should have known it’s a few lies I use to fake. Hey. I deserve some break. Life is overrated: I’ll just play dead. Don’t you know I’m all show and no go. My keyboard is my second pillow. If I say I care, oh God I swear my nose would grow. Just like Pinocchio. Try not to snore is the best I can do. Can I show you my point of view? I know someday I’m going to Hell, but at least I’ll get free BBQ. No moral in this story. I was feeling too lazy. Someday I’m going to pay. But today is not this day.