[Greece, 2012] ‘Burnt Brain’ by The Miasma

I turn the page…

Burnt brain made up of burnt cells
I heard that tomorrow will come more violent than today
Everything around me gets narrow
Shackles and circles, compromises, friends and individuals every day

I work like a dog in the mornings and I get crumbs
My mom always told me not to be anxious about anything
my future is carved exquisite on the horizon
I don’t know why, but she always told me this calmly

My skin is already broken because of the sun
I look at my first labour wrinkles and I feel like a rag

I don’t know what the fuck’s going on
and apparently no one will tell me anything
Nobody ever explained anything to me
I haven’t even been born; I’ve been sown and sprouted along

I live and breathe; I embrace chaos and survive
having a chronic and serious relationship with loneliness

Winter to summer, summer to winter, and a couple of in-between
months that I don’t know where to integrate

Tonight I stopped trying… and I simply…
turn the page…

Tonight I throw all of my toys out the window
And that’s just because they’ve never filled me up
so I’ve decided to be honest for once with myself

Anyone who can’t stand me is absolutely right
and they ought to kill twice whomever I like
If I see someone having something in common with me, they’re in trouble

Something’s not right, and the first step in solving the problem
is recognising there is one. That’s me, obviously

Every day I lose myself in the ruins
I try to find serenity, but in vain. Everything around me is spoilt
and first and foremost I. Am rotten to the bone
I lean in and carve a pathway; wherever I march to, I give away dust

Tonight I stopped walking… and I simply…
turn the page…

What’s the purpose?
I’m supposed to strive to make my life better – is it not?

Before I can move upward I must first learn to tread on heads
Someone else’s treading on mine and it hurts; now, am I to do the same?

I don’t have a good sense of balance, I’ll fall down
and I must learn to sleep dirtier at nights

Is class advancement the purpose?
Am I still too young to know – is that why I complain loudly?
Will I still be able to speak out if I make money tomorrow?

The road to success is one-way, and a synonym for exploitation
I used to be beaten by bosses; now, am I to become one who exploits?

But I, too, want to live; I’m tired of not being able to dream

Go find me a solution. Tomorrow I’ll march even dirtier into the future
No one was ever there to stop me

Tonight I stopped hoping… and I simply…
turn the page…

I turn the page…

via: www.tomiasma.gr