Escrever é matar a expectativa. Acabar com a esperança e destruir a certeza.
Aquele que escreve quer ser o arquiteto das palavras, criando o monumento perfeito do texto. Tenta transformar sons em onomatopéias, desilusões em metáforas. Saudades em eufemismo. Com o amor se faz uma prosopopéia e da tristeza uma hipérbole.
Escrever é começar de novo... Aceitar as falhas e a eterna tentativa de escrever o que não foi dito.
Colours are what keep me alive colours are what to hold in my head
colours are where my my old meets new colours are where my my brain finds blue
colours and colours and colours of colours colours and colours and colours of colours colours and colours and colours of colours colours and colours and colours of colours colours and colours and colours of colours
bursts are where i find a face bursts are made to colour me rich bursts are blocks stickle bricks bursts of colour until i'm sick
colours and colours and colours of colours (i only wanted for to see) colours and colours and colours of colours (there's nothing in this heart but me) colours and colours and colours of colours (everything you want is not free) colours and colours and colours of colours
colours and colours and colours of colours (i'm everything a girl could need) colours and colours and colours of colours (there's nothing in this heart but me) colours and colours and colours of colours (if everything you want is free)
No I'm not color blind I know the world is black and white Try to keep an open mind but... I just can't sleep on this tonight Stop this train I want to get off and go home again I can't take the speed it's moving in I know I can't But honestly won't someone stop this train
