I was not what I was
I'm not what I am
The stream that flows in me
Is no more transparent and polish the pebbles
I can't no more mutter the songs
Of the lonely cow-herd and stop his flute
I can't attract the virgin sitting on the stone
As she washes her dreams I ogle at the pink breasts
Passing silently within confines of my sandy shores;
I was not what I was
I am not what I am
The moon has lost faith upon me
In the henna scented nights
I invite the owl to dropp the remnants of a mouse
Hanging from its beak;
It breaks the mirror
The moon gets scared and melts like wax;
I was not what I was
I am not what I am
The dead leaves are left in the banks
The worms crept through their veins
Poodles are silent in the paw marks
Half reflecting the clouds in opaque lens
I vow to die in the muddy floor
As crabs move straight in a crazy dance
I was not what I was
I am not what I am
As I was hoisted into the void
The pallid sun gets its life
My body turns from blue to grey
The lightening acts as a treacherous knife
The fall is ominously great
The lap is full of thorn and ignorance is rife
I was not what I was
I am not what I am