Lost in translation

I am so lost in translation
That all I want to say
Comes out wrong, makes me look a fool.
I try to discover means, albeit roundabout
To make her see the better way,
To tell her that I have no sway,
On the things I do, on the words
Spoken, reconsidered, regretted.
And how every time I try,
To write something beautiful
To make her smile;
I end up just as bad,
Writing my own obituaries… … …



My euphemisms are all old now
And my borrowed feelings just as stale,
This whole affair has begun to stink;
A proper nausea, the uneasy smell.
And each time I script this sulking story,
That has no love, speaks of no glory;
No knights here, no damsel in distress,
Not the Devil’s own,
Nor angels of fallen grace;
Each time I try thus to break free,
I end up just as mad,
Dancing upon my hand carved cemeteries… … …



For all I know, for all I care,
This story could go on;
For testaments are not meant for me.
And now that I have lost my religion,
Pursuing one god after another,
Sacrificing everything but my threadbare soul;
The Devil may take it
Not that I care much, no more,
Trivialities do not surprise me,
And oh so the masked glamour!
None of that for me, I have had enough;
For all the happy things done,
I end up just as sad,
Sketching my not so fond memories… … …