Why are you so false to me?
A false friend that kept me alive, held my hand dragged me, tugged me. Where?
You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?
You old friend that never left me, no time by ourselves. Same road, old road.
Lead me somewhere new. Lead me far away.
Stop being yourself is such a paradox we cannot afford its weight.
Me and you, my friend, cannot escape from ourselves.
I’m trying, really, to break up in two.
Maybe it’s the back, if I break my back I’ll break up with my back memories.
Maybe, baby, I need to break with the back of my mind, where the black remains like a stain.
Inked ideas linked to the blank part of my head where lullabies still flies but get caught in a net.
No escapes. Black spiders are all on their ways getting you back.
Pretend, pretend not.