1965

can we go back to the world we had?

it’s the world we’ve been dreaming of.

i don’t belong here,

i don’t belong here.

i don’t belong here,

i don’t belong here.

i hate it here so i will go to the secret garden in my mind.

but the garden dressed up like a mirage, more of a fragile dream that i can make break with a gentle blow.

it’s the place of fictions, of daydreams, of hidden thoughts and of a lonely and timid soul.

it dares not to go out.

it hates. it avoids.

it can’t interpret, why people are going hustling and bustle around.

it can’t understand, why they follow like a herd.

it doesn’t like the feeling, when all is throwing themselves into the drunken and overdosed world, without feeling anything. no cry-outs and no pain. only numbness, only blindness.

oh, i don’t belong here. it thought.

there must be a way out.

it looked up at the sky, hoping to see the the stars. but there are no stars, only half a moon shaded by dark clouds. there is no hope, everyone asleep.

it must be the night, it thought.

it must be the night that makes me overthink and lose faith in everything.

maybe the world is functioning perfectly fine.

maybe it once was. maybe it will be.

maybe goodness really exists but…not now. not now when the city’s been blanketed by silence and depression. not now when the morning comes and people have got to work their lives to survive. not now when no one can understand each other, yet no one is willing to.

not now, when you can’t see the stars aglow.

i want to go back.

i’ve been wandering in the cruel and real world for so long and, goddamn it, i want to go back.

it’s because our brains tend to beautify the memories, i know.

but i just want to go back to the good old days. or the good days ahead.

not now, not here, not lonely, not alone.

the soul, it pictures a lovely scene of us.

weaving through the bushes, not aware of how many buds are out of place. combating time, sneaking out of the classrooms to enjoy a glass of wine which ripened from frangrance of May. knocking on heaven’s door, wishing someone’s inside and would give us a shelter. acting as anchors, and hoping that nothing would ever tear us apart.

i wish we hid under the shadows of flowers and trees. i wish i’d known the names of them. i wish i could remember better than that.

i wish we really did. i wish i said love at the first chance i could. i wish i said goodbye looking straight at your eyes. i wish i never hesitated in front of that door and never paced back and forth just because i feared.

in this way it seems like so many regrets were left behind.

the past is not as good as it seems now.

but still i want to go back. the soul says it wants to go back.

at least it’s better than now.

how?

at least we can meet and talk. at least we’re in the same range of space and time. at least, there’s some hoping for tomorrow cuz the final round has never come.

at that time i thought it could be forever. no, just so i wished.

i wished it would be forever.

that time could stop, that we lived the same way day after day.

that we wouldn’t need to worry about future or the world outside.

all i would do is do what i need to do.

we don’t have freedom.

love has deprived me of my freedom.

and the last choice i made,

is to sink, and drown.

the soul, it traded its heart for a painful love.

in this way it can suck the grand pleasure of the primitive pain.

when we suffer we feel delighted.

why’s that?

when you cut your finger you feel the pain and then you feel your body.

when you hurt your feelings you feel the pain and then you feel your soul.

it’s in the sufferings that ways to find ourselves lie.

at least so i believe.

so i take the pain, and it gives me the hopes.

one way, exactly, is the longing for past, the seeking for going back.

can we go back to the world we had?

can we encounter in the aisle the way it once was?

can we have our time, can we cherish them so much that we still recall every line?

nevermore.

the raven sings, nevermore.

the nightingale’s rose says on the letter, nevermore.

we can’t go back.

you can’t go back.

i can’t go back.

i still dream. 5 a.m. i still linger.

but i can’t go back.

and never will i be back.

cuz we’re falling apart.

a tiny little glitch could totally tear us apart.

a single misunderstanding can make us lose connection.

so faint and so fragile.

we’ve never understood each other.

but you wanted to lead me to a better world, and i want to show you a better place.

i should’ve used a gun pointing straight at your head. we wanted to kill each other but at the same time we wanted to save each other, just like Agnés and Fabienne.

they failed and we can’t.

the tides of silence rolled over us. we were sinking, but not in the way i expect.

we were dying instead of jumping into the River Seine.

we were losing our breath instead of showering in the river of love.

it’s killing us.

i love you, it’s ruining my life.

and the soul spoke twice.

nevermore.

nevermore.