It’s a spider in my chest It’s the feeling I know best The spider makes its home In everything that I know The webbing makes me heave But it’s helping me to breathe Lays its eggs inside my heart Forcing me to fall apart Curls its legs around my soul Where it might just make me whole
Sy son skyn Duskant die berge Die streep van goud ’n doellyn van my droom Duidelik sigbaar Maar steeds ontasbaar My hande brand om hom te voel En oë bloei om saam te lag Stem hees van moontlikhede tel Ek het lank gesmeek Maar ’n antwoord is onverwags
Praat oor die weer hou dinge eenvoudig al maak dit seer steek weg Hoe was jou dag? ... sluit toe jou hart... vra sy sag ... steek weg... Loop met my ... dis te laat... wees by my sy ... steek weg... weg gesteek nooit gevind elders ontdek gooi weg.
Autumn leaves dance with the wind The sky is decked with orange, green and red A man walks with a skip and a whistle Such a joyful fellow he is on such a day, A day where no one can keep death at bay. The leaves fall but they grow back again How come no one misses them? Do the trees ever weep when the wind blows by, Blowing all their friends, children in the sky? of course they weep, just not for a long time When a mother loses her child, husband, father, It's not long before they seem somewhat...fine How easily people are excused for causing another pain The heart and body all the same Does the wind ever feel guilty about the crimes he had to commit? Did it want to? Was it forced to? Or was it just out of habit? As the trees grow older with age, do they learn more, or do they feel trapped as if in a cage? Do they ever dream of bigger things, Wishing to be cut down and rearranged? What horror have they seen, Unfathomable to the human mind? Or are they just like you and me, Clueless to what the world may hide? What secrets do the wind carry? Secrets that have never been shared, Promises that have been broken, Secrets that should be shared, but people are too scared That no one would care or care too much. The man walking in between the trees, The one that most likely gave up on his dreams, but still seems happy and content Did he know where he could have gone if his time was well spent? Maybe he lived his life well but who am I to tell. Maybe he's the wind Maybe he's the trees He could be the leaves or maybe he's just like you and me Still waiting to discover his identity. He might be older but perhaps not as wise Maybe he's just like all of us, just needing to open his eyes.
“Klim nou op, op die keel Waar seekoue jou streel Jou geheue moet jy verhard Want hier word jou lewe gevat Moet nie skag laat buig nie Al wil storms nie swyg nie Jy het van vrouens liefde verwerf Daar kom wel ‘n dag, wat elk moet sterf”