Why our ancestors had been
So surrealists
When they thought about 2000´s
They had been more fantasists
Than me with all my passions
Dreamers, novelists
Exaggerated they have been.
The way I see them right now
N´ it doesn´t matter
´Coz “now” is only one more page
In the diary of an unknown
It´s 2000´s
N´ the past is tearable
Forgettable might be
The past can be written in ink
N´ wiped out, it´s a bless
But the past still yet
immutable
N´ the future still yet
uncertain
N´ the love still yet
Precious
N´ of course, almost an illusion
The keyboard
within my reach
It can´t do anything important
They didn´t make any machine
Able to stop the war
They didn't make any machine
Able to prevent me from get hurt
They didn't make any machine
Able to help me forgive
So tomorrow I could look at the
world
Without any resentment
N´ it doesn´t matter
Coz´ “tomorrow” is only one more
page
In the diary of an unknown
It´s 2000´s
N´ everything looks the same
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