We don’t have endless pain

we have endless lies

and we ride the time

hoping to be nice

but we aren’t in love and we know

something is wrong with us.

Nice we say every single day

nice to be with

nice to hear it

nice to taste it

nice to feel it,

but we are not yet invited

to the glamour table, our sight

hide either blod or terror

and we care about each other

not too much

because is nice

to be wondering

who will kill

the other love.