On the left, I store everything foolish
And on the right, my air bag has no life.
Is it me or my stupid insensible brain?
A path inclines and the other slopes down.
Foolishly strange, it has been for me
And wisest of animals they call me.
The biggest illusion is rising to divert
And still the fools like me believe.
Killing the air, I make way for death
And everyone seems happy for it. Soon
I will hide under the reflection of horizon
And even god can’t force me to breathe.
‘Does your brain work?’ asks the saint.
“Yes, a little more than before!” – my voice.
Fact- I don’t use it for you anymore,
A little had been more than enough.
Harder and harder it has been for me
To climb the steep mountain with thorns
Worry about the result, who does?
Let’s move down!
A sudden fall, near to death.
And the brain works on me again.
“Only the mass death there is on this hill.
Searching for life is more than a kill.”