I love to write and to get to know the people who are listening.

Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?

Why can I never go back to bed? Who's is the voice ringing in my head? Where is the sense in these desperate dreams? Why should I wake when I'm half past dead?

If you want to be safe, walk in the middle of the street.

Life is not like Gloomy Sunday, with a second ending when the people are disturbed.

My reasons to live Were my reasons to die But at least they were mine Now I've freedom unbound Cut the laces of life

And falling's just another way to fly.