The Relic, I am
Me and My Past.
My life has become a relic of my luck.
When I desire to revive
When I like to dive
When my all inspiration gather to advance
When my heart sprouts full of romance
When ....
I find myself then
I am a relic
Ruined and restricted
Controversial and afflicted
No hope, No horizon to see my star
I am the abortion child of my fear.
And then I realized, I am, how sick!
I am a relic.
But who let interfere my luck?
It’s from then ongoing and never does it stuck.
I overhear -
How much blue you can find in dominant chord
Or Augmented with a sustained touch in A,
Or D minor weeps like Zamphir’ Lonely Shepherd,
Can anyone find Othello is there?
Can anyone see the beast waiting?
The Beauty is then the painting,
The empty glass where spider web sighs
Remembering the past of whiskey dies
But the Royal desire can’t change the Aristocrat habit,
Same answer will be given, who drives the war fleet,
Same glance will be seen from Emerald Golden Ring
The same I have, because the Relic, my fortunes bring
Not the dilapidated Wall,
I have the dignity of bearing the history of Fall
Of Pride and Prowess.
So, I am a relic,
And I pray for innocent touch
Like the garden of Oscar Wilde’s Giant
Like the kiss of princess to the lips of Frog
Like the Peyo’s Smurfs village
Like any change of Moscow Revolt,
The Relic wants to show
The way the Taj-Mahal glow
The way you afraid of Nuke
The way, the unwritten book.
The Relic, I am
Will tell you the story
The fight of rusty Luck
The Poison of Nasty Buck
The Horses of Thunder
The Heroes of Blunder
More than Medusa,
Less than Prophet Musa,
The Spirit of age
The immortal Ink of Sage
The Relic, I am
from where I become.
My retrospect and the present I am, just a coefficient variation.
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