I fight an inglorious battle
I have chosen my own story
Never renouncing pleasures
But trying to delude obligations
 

Knowing that each movement is a sheer alibi
Only to transport me closer to you
My course is unsustainable
And the downfall seems unavoidable
 

How is the sky reflected in the Tagus?
Is there still ice on the Daugava?
Why do months vanish and I don’t see them?
 

Why do I write in the language of others?
What happened to my navigation instruments?
Do I really want to be far beyond?
 
 

M.Daedalus