lördag 11 augusti 2012













The clouds are pianochords
echoing through open windows
from a top floor view
Empty wooden labourencrusted dreamhalls
resonate all that i should have let be gone
Oh  cry, cry cry
Oh why why Why?
Ligth and brightest blue
come back and do it all over
what you did so swell
stomp those clouds and calmly
play that awsome concert once again
make a stamp of it, or a picture
just don´t let it soundwave away

onsdag 8 augusti 2012

söndag 5 augusti 2012

tisdag 31 juli 2012


We have all been booked by history
There is no "what have happened?"
no traces of salt was left behind
There is no left is not the one to the right,right?
old qoutiches that fetch my mind
There is no candlelightdreamlets
no smartasses or phones
There is no blockbuiltuglyness
just svish , svoosh and boompaow
There is no place for me
what i say is that is what i say
There is no place fo me