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Lomo
Klimt 1918
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Just a dawning of a new day,
Morning through his stained sheets.
Someone lies in a poster,
Oh, he shows no repentance.
Skinny boy undercover,
Caught in his finer years.
Slit of light shines his fingers,
Takes in view his lonely mouth.
A glimpse of joy,
From the small things of his life,
Waiting to succumb another day.
A pill of bliss,
A trail of sun between their harms,
Standin' here for my last photograph.
In the deafness of his silence,
Dust moves in a empty space, its secret is safe,
He heals the wounds to make they cry again.
Looking the hole in the grey floor,
He licks his wounds secretly.
He used to lose all ambitions,
Floating through the waves of past.
Pictures clothes, memories that hold him far away,
Not a sunday comes in sorrow,
Failure makes a common day.
Who has no grace
Loves the small things of his life,
There's no world but this one today.
With tired eyes
We have passed through this night,
Standin' here for our last photograph.
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