My pain is not ashamed to repeat itself, because you can run as fast as you want, but you can never outrun the cliché. I want you to know it.
[…] Apocalypse, first of all it has to be an internal and spiritual event, and just secondly an internal catastrophe. The gates of hell.. they are mental constructions; they let come Satan inside not in the physical world, but into our subconscious… Apocalypse is a mental transformation, which will happen, or is happening, in the collective unconscious of human race.
The Enochian Apocalypse
One day someone told me that you have to be a work of art; or to wear it. I chose the first one. I don’t want to explain in a profile what I am. In addiction to this, words are imprecise, things symbols, not things themselves.
Heart is so fragile. Have love is hard, it can be lost, or steal, or it can be hurt and loose so much blood to live. And love can change, it can become hate, as day become night, as life become death.. A soul can cry without reason, without sadness. The only reason can be that you are alive.
We are walking with no one, holding all the pain inside and you’re thinking about the end to come. You believe there is no way to be free. Loose all your time, do you have the power to forgive all your bless? The pain is getting strong into this emptiness, where I’ve burned and entombed all my dreams alive. The final day will end in sorrow, there’s no tomorrow. I hear a voice calling my name, you see me crying, you see me dying and loosing all my faith. Can’t you see that I am the one?
Hate yourself with forbidden.
My pilot light has flickered out;
I’m a canvas that bleeds, and I’m painted with fingers.
I’m a funeral of dead memory waste,
You can see it on my face.
You are afraid that you are not equal,
To be equal you have to add or subtract, and I’ve never liked math.
Everything has already been created, and so, we can only think of new ways of destroying them.
Do you think animals believe in god?
My pupils are not students, they dilate but they never learn.
STOP WATERING A DEAD FLOWER.
“Each time I make my mother cry
An angel dies and falls from heaven.
When the boy is still a worm it’s hard to learn the number 7.
But when they get to it’s the first thing that they do.
Each time I look outside my mother dies
I feel my back is changing shape.
When the worm consumes the boy it’s never considered rape.
When they get to you, prick your finger, it is done.
The moon has now eclipsed the sun,
Angel has spread his wings,
The time has come for better things..”
The aspiration to save the world is a morbid phenomenon of today’s youth
God damn what are you looking for?! Oh, I just need a supermarket.
Do you hear me? Do you hear my pray? Can you see me now? Can you see me on your face?
GOOD TIMES ARE CHANGED.
We have reached the end of the history, the only thing left are cosmetic changes.
This profile offers no explanation, nor needs one.
SEXY & HOT COMMENTS
CLICK HERE!
I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways,
I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
It’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it,
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’,
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’,
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.
I heard the sound of a thunder that roared out a warnin’,
I heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’,
Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’,
I heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’,
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded in hatred,
It’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.
I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’,
I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest dark forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
The executioner’s face is always well hidden
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color and none is the number,
And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
Reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’,
But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’,
And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard,
It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall.
It’s a hard rain’s a gonna fall
It’s a hard rain’s a gonna fall
Taken from A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall
Bob Dylan
