New York

A thought wanders off my mind
Three seconds too late to catch it
An eternity to remember it again

I justify the cracks in the little stones you gave me
The sound of paradise not so crystalline anymore
As if we are running around New York
On an empty heart.

And it’s so easy to forget…

But for the doubt in my face to emancipate
I just need to find my way to Central Park… to central parts…
And clearly there’s a distance I shall never close
And clearly the pathway is filled of half-truths

But there’s always a place to return in the Manhattan crazy streets
Where I can see the Statue if I rise up high. 
The center of my chest sometimes…

I can see the cracks in the stones…
They are too many too ignore…

A future written on an empty page
With invisible ink
And the clouds in the sky
Covering the sun in this city of rain

I wash my face with the rain
But the dirt won’t come off

There’s always a place to go back
Hidden behind the Atlas of the world
As hidden as my own eyes are now
From the image from the mirror that I wish not to stare.

I can see the cracks in the stone
It’s not easy to digest…

I find the way back to my thoughts
And I abhor them
But they won’t go anywhere
The little crack in the stones
I want to heal them with my love…
But sometimes I think that’s just not enough

Maybe it’s time to go back
To New York.