Dezemberluft

Wolken sind tief gelegt

There's a rhythm in rush these days Where the lights don't move and the colors don't fade Leaves you empty with nothing but dreams

Mom, my depression is a shape shifter. One day it is as small as a firefly in the palm of a bear, The next, it’s the bear. [...] Mom says, “Happy is a decision.” But my happy is as hollow as a pin pricked egg. My happy is a high fever that will break. Mom says I am so good at making something out of nothing and then flat-out asks me if I am afraid of dying. No. I am afraid of living. Mom, I am lonely.

Es wird Zeit die Zeit zu ändern, sonst nimmt sie ihren Lauf

Für mich warst Du nie Gegner, hab' Dir tausendprozentig vertraut, Dir alles erzählt, vor Dir Intimstes aufgetaut. Hab' Dich, vielleicht zwanghaft, mit 'nem Heiligenschein versehen.