Im looking at you through the glass lyrics

therefore as me it is not lacked too much my usual scholastic universe useless persons, banal, they seat in the benches beside me, attedra that swim in their ignorance and sorridono and they laugh and they pretend not accorgersi. he, with which I have passed to nearly all the vacations he that she has smile to me and taken in turn he that would not never kiss me not died and that next to 24 years only thinks next to the comic strips the only one who succeeds to tear a smile to me, the only one that to how much it opens has taken care itself for me I imagine while it writes to me sms idiot from the classroom where a university professor speaks about semiologia. watching outside from the window of the classroom that these fat pigs soon me non mi è mancato troppo il mio solito universo scolastico. persone inutili, banali, siedono nei banchi accanto a me, attedra che nuotano nella loro ignoranza e sorridono e ridono e fingono di non accorgersi. lui, con cui ho passato quasi tutte le vacanze lui che mi ha sorriso e preso in giro lui che non mi bacerebbe mai nemmeno morta e che a 24 anni pensa soltanto ai fumetti. l' unico che riesce a strapparmi un sorriso, l' unico che a quanto apre si è preoccupato per me. lo immagino mentre mi scrive sms idioti dall' aula dove un professore parla di semiologia. guardando fuori dalla finestra dell' aula che questi grassi maiali presto spariranno dalla mia vista- dalla my life after centuries I return to write on mine amatissimo blog. day of been born them, a day as an other to house mine (nobody of we believes), gifts just between friends, and obviously always disappointing. the cellular one is ignited continually for messages of auguries. "I augur You a rich life of mathematics, adding the pleasure embezzling the pain and dividend the love with who you is more to heart, good Mariana festivities" "gilded Stars silver thoughts, than you pass a serene one been born them. I feel myself impacciata, impagliata, entangling in one net. the net where the dreams remain entangles to you and they get confused with the truth. the burlap of the spider, where the dew drops remain to sleep and deform the verita. do not try not even more than to withhold the falling (even if it does not have many interesting things emerge the tears and I see of the empty places. –. From The Edge of the Deep Green Sea. on the end in order not to make the end of the a lot. Girl of sixteen, whole life ahead of her Slashed her wrists, bored with life Didn' t succeed, thank the Lord Fighting back the tears, mother reads the notes again Sixteen candles burn in her mind She takes the blame, it' s always the same She goes down on her knees and prays don' t want to start any blasphemous rumours the But think that the God' s got to sick sense of humor And when the die expect to find the Him laughing Girl of eighteen, fell in love with everything Found new life in Jesus Christ Summer' s day, as she passed away Birds to were singing in the summer sky Then came the again To tear fell from her mother' s eye don' t want to start any blasphemous rumours the But think that the God' s got to sick sense of humor And when the die expect to find the Him laughing Are here, like all it knows days not to make nothing to you and to remove the thoughts in any case. All it is empty and extinguished it seems I do not understand for medeve true being that if you run faster of the light the same light to scompare. There is a film that I have seen of recent that it has bequest to me within a strange sense of melancholy, a strange sense of empty, nevertheless also of hope in some way, and it has strangely intrigued me with its slow one and quiet poesia.tutto this will go lost, like words in the web, the great net of a distracted spider that lets to escape all. Day begun badly, worthy epilogue of one ended evening also worse. A evening has not been therefore badly, if some insignificant particular that are not available they have rendered the undersigned insopportabile. And insopportabile wants little in order to render us something to me. Minchia that publicity that I am making myself. Universe in this moment represented from people that in some way it makes to feel me completely inopportune. Hey, Daphne with a adolescenziale crisis of anger I had not never seen it. Continuous to always write always of the usual things cn the usual persons, always the usual rages, the usuals scazzi. It gets depressed to me in tremendous way is what. I can be consoled, I exceed in other fields. It breaks off to me that people that enter not there I haul takes my place breaks off to Me that people that enter not there I haul is granted (and demanded) of patecipare to suppers and similar things while to not viente me said does not break off to find to me people to Me that sopporto in means to the boxes them breaks off Me to dislike a person and not to be able to explain why it breaks off to Me to succeed in to dislike a person only why they are forced to starci entirety too much time breaks off to have to make feint to Me of nothing breaks off to make feint to Me of being happy breaks off to Me to put to me from part for the common good breaks off to see how much to Me are not absolutely useful breaks off to see the friendship to Me drowned give Its uncertain look that for case intercrosses mine While a common affection renders us neighbors. Nevertheless still they do not give life signals. And if my heart will explode behind an other sigh what is the persons and what is the words." it is dangerous in that premises, with dj its friend who favours it too much. It forces also others to dance that old music to be strange enough. a tizio it hits it, for its way to dance, not effemminato sensuale but. neighbors find themselves, they end in order to chat, and although it has just those 15 years in more, they are found, find much. They exit a po’. to take a po’. d’.aria, the sky is incredibly far away, pioviccica from all the serata…. It speaks them about music that listens, of cinema, of books. It thinks next to ices that she feels within its boneses, and next to its beautifulst eyes verdi…. They re-enter, the cappa is incredible, it has need of other beer, and is other beer, c’.è people who do not see that evening for a long time, and they offer to them from drink. It is with the strange type to try to speak. They are of new outside, appeals to the type to them, he asks them the number, in order see again itself, for cazzeggiare, without second ends. "ahah therefore I can torture via sms, you do not know what to you you are making I do not want to kiss to you, to come to bed with you, to make things that they could invogliare your girl kill to me. I do not know it and I do not see why I would have to get lost behind a type fidanzato".preferirei to make all the rest and not to have your number". It was with its friends, she, that evening to the pub, as usual, like every evening. E' late, domattina is school, like every morning. It answers name a quarter of the city. "if you want I accompany you to house with the machine". "Also house mine is to ten minuteren, than gain it on foot accompanies us me until the public square" are stopped in front of the income of the niversità for aliens to chat. "a kiss perhaps, or perhaps sweeping, sennò you would not have accompanied to me, you would not be here to speak about hauled with me, under the umbrella". all around it turns, and it turns, and it turns - it is the beer, is said. but it turns and it turns, while its shoulders seem an optimal point of support, and abandons the head with a hand resists that stupid umbrella over their witness domattina I must go to work to the 8. "you want star here two hours or imbucarti from some part in some alley. "for this I had said of the machine. Not, it is alone, for the road, without umbrella. It sends a sms: * good night. Little after it answers * will be calm, but little good * It answers also she, does not remember what arrives to its portone, is based on the scales, without reason, to think * I would want that pits here, now that you said to me: I have taken a machine and I am following to you, in the heart of the night, in tries of you *. but they are just to the round one, in the heart of the night, looking for you. Is all therefore confused, therefore irreale, the light rain, l’.asfalto bathed, the lampposts that riflettono…. It exits of new, is based in machine with he, I embrace, a smile parlano…. speak, if they go some, turn senzameta for the bathed roads. It reflects: she seems it are to us always rain in my life I want that you know this, even if perhaps you she seems therefore. but you will not have nothing, absolutely nothing from me. "you want to make sex with me, true. It is likeable, although what it would want. After po' (too much) an car it turns towards the narrow lane near the center of the city where it has base. L’.accompagna under house and stavolta goes to sleep indeed. It is buio, outside, it is cold, the windows are clouds to you. Not that there is much to see, some lamppost that leaves only a halo in my hairnet. It is guiding a lot fastly. I do not know where it is going, it does not import to me. I feel the motor to run, he that it changes march, the wheels that turn sull’.asfalto and I imagine thousand particular that I do not succeed to natch. its breath, the heartbeat of its heart, the blood that runs within its veins, like drops d’.acqua…. We have not never had null from dirci, we have always only filled up the empty one with the words. Not c’.è action, dumb solo reflection. Only at times it is colored from the orange lampposts in distance, over some city. I wonder if a totally black sky can be still seen from some part, only schiarito from the lampi…. And hour I feel un’.estranea, alien in the body of un’.altra woman, a child whom the world with eyes of astonishment and innocence watches, without more to comprise it. The sky is of one strange color, through the dirty glasses of the room window mine. This music is strange, sweetest, saddest, because it makes to feel me therefore full of sadness. (Fool enough to almost be it, cool enough to not quite see it. The send to heart to all my dearest when the life is oh I know dreary dream. I’.m rumoured thru the straight and narrow when the harlots of my perils scream Try to understand that when can will the Mother weep the years I’.m missing all our Time can’.t be given back Shut my mouth and strike the demons that coursed you and your reasons Out of hand and out of season Out of love and out of feelings. Fool enough to almost be it, cool enough to not quite see it. And old enough to always fell this always old I’.ll always feel this. Try to understand that when can the will) Nearly like a scent that we are accustoms to you to carry, this sense of melancholy does not pull down to me but it raises, in bottom I know to me of being I. Same L’.idea of thought extends every possibility of acquaintance. what is one that only I can understand, indeed, too much often I do not succeed in capirlo…. Alive you six and I never have not been able of amare…. (‘.’.il price is a po’. the sea, seems that it rocks to you but in truth wants to you ingoiare….) (Because I do not have the gift of the understanding are the same things that I would have intentional to say, only with of the beautiful words therefore that I never would not have been in a position to conceiving them. And I know we start another day together You and the and to million miles between us train my moods to bloom like flowers unfolding the The sky is open and the drones to are pouring out The day inhales in to contagious yawn And there you smile as though the sun Here in our little world, the tiny world spins for me All’.s well in the titled world, but there’.s something not there are words, they do not exist words enough eccomi, hello, hey, are here I listen to the einsturzende neubaten and task to the marlene, is in love but not of the same eyes that watch to me, they are in love of a various world from this. Silver and gold and it’.s growing cold Autumn leaves lay as thick as thieves Shivers down your thorns chill you to the bone ’.cos the mandolin wind is the melody that turns The heat of your breath carving shadow on the mist Every angel has the wish that she’.s never been kissed To broken dream haunting in your sleep And hiding in your smile to secret you must keep, love Love breaks the wings of to butterfly on to wheel Love breaks the wings of to butterfly on to wheel There’.s not scarlet in you, lay your veil down for me As sure as God made wine, you can’.t wrap your arms Take warmth from me, cold autumn winds cut sharp as to And in the dark for me, you’.re the candle flame that Love breaks the wings of to butterlfy on to wheel Love will break the wings of to butterfly on to wheel Wise men say all is fair in love and war There’.s not right or wrong in the design of love And could only watch as the wind crushed your wings the Broken and torn crushed like the flower under the snow And like the flower in spring Love will laughed again to heal your wings Love heals the wings of to butterfly on to wheel Love will heal the wings of to butterfly on to wheel never understood to You of to observe the persons around to you and asking you to you what cabbage us fairies lì in means. Sffro of claustrofobia, is insofferente, touchy, mental patient, nervous, unbalanced, stronza, sociopatica: better to abound, you will not remain disappointed. To scula they are in a class of I haul, we are in 23, that is I explain myself, 23 persons and I only go daccordo with 3.Soffro of I envy, jealousy, love, anger, hatred, indifference, to times depreciation, other fear, other curiosities. I see the persons around to me as an alien you would see the beings human: totally various from himself. It seems of being sott' water, and are all alghe that they move with the current. To times I can be felt similar to someone, or something, but sure persons are in a position to make to weigh mine to try me to be same me nevertheless I do not enunciate, enough are stereotyped, in the canoni, normal school. I have however fear: the looks cut are attempted new exponents of the web that they can share thoughts from scholar manifesting to the bar, ideas from child that does not know the life, musical tastes from alternativoide leoncavallo/barca to sail. the sky are of one strange color, through the vet. Fact improper use of my life. Insomma silo I admit: they are a fake. EVERY DAY IS EXACTLY THE SAME.