Some lives are a bad time that last an eternity, until each life broke.
In the morning, you may woke up and tell yourself, this luck will change, is only a tinny dark moment. It must be gone tomorrow somehow..
whenever you thougth this is gettin better, this is gettin worse..
its a curse.
A matter to accept there is no tomorrow for the kind of life we dream about. We are no the choosen ones.
Not that life, nor other,
even the very smaller satisfactions seemed to be denied to us
the world ignore and dislike us, and we seemed to have lost the strength to figth back
we seemed to turn weak as the time go by
but the sea is still trowing us back to the shore
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