WHITE NOISE

Your heart will collapse if there’s nothing left to fill it with.

Oh may we drown in our made-up ocean.

It always requires a breakdown to compose something of value.

Went to bed with an infinite song in my head and couldn’t dream.

 

At the moment I am only playing the piano and can’t even touch a guitar,
it feels strange and relieving at the same time.
I already wrote around 20 songs, almost all of them are only frameworks and unfinished.
But it feels strange:
It seems like there is something hidden inside me waiting for the right moment to come out.

Still waiting for it.
I can wait,
I guess.