can we really believe?

little paranoias as passengers

in the rearview, acting like past ghosts  

distrusting became a routine

scenes of the imaginary are a film

in my mind

another ride in this life

to get over another runner 

to whom I dedicated more than myself 

and here we are one more time

looking over the shoulder

who can we really believe?

I do not want to follow the alienated 

there is no strawberries field 

but I want to taste the sweetness 

better than getting used to the bitterness (of life) 

left behind like nothing here mattered  

running to the panic room inside 

escaping the inevitable 

the bottom of the well just seems a home

even though you threw all there without deliberate 

closing your eyes

choosing new apologizes 

I tried, but I can not decode your desires

I tried, but I can not understand your system so desultory 

the cards always shows the same cultivated insecurities