Act

Picture your soul,                                (low, but revealing voice)

Walking like a man

Trough the endless crop field,

Callecting cocoons of non born butterfly

And dreaming of becoming one.


Now listen to your inside voice,      (perception voice linking to  Mr Hide or Dr. Jeckill)

It's mainly shout,

Well, white screaming

In deep big black box.


You read this and think-      (voice of sick but nervous man)

What a bullshit it is,

But if you think deeper,

Those words-

It's yours freadom poem.


Now look trough        (story teller, revealing voice)

Your light window.

Isn't it, that light

Is on the other side,

Not yours for shure?


But you delay    (Jim Morison while reading his poems)

To open The doors

To go out,

Thus you delay

Break on trough

To the other side.


You ain't alown you see,        (Friendly, becoming tratory voice)

The white stripe army falows you.

Raving, dreaming of drreaming,

Loving you as a sister

As your brother

As beloved lover.

It's your precious treasure.

The crazy century of passion,

Decade of hedonism and prostitution.


But fuck - that's life        (lying solute)

By it's truly meaning

And weight.


You think it all the time,        (dont be naive- preachy voice)

Convincing that love

Involves friends and trust.


Not to you, my dear,      (silent, but  compelling)

Not this time.


My mask falls dawn -  (your own voice, before you reveal youself)

I'm Shakespear.