The Fool

I still read my cards once in a while when I'm thinking about you, and I often see your face in my dreams, not so far from me.

Your gaze instead is always distant, always looking away, acting indifferent to the crows standing beside you.

I hear you calling me even though I don't know your voice. Your forehead is covered in dirt, and your hair is too fragile to protect you from the dust.

I see the tower exploding behind you, throwing rocks with fire that remain on the ground... Oh baby, you can barely walk on your own thoughts.

The resistance living in your chest is just too heavy to be carried around. Your hands are bleeding and shaking; the only help they're getting are the chords of a black Jackson that is holding them softly and gently.

A wheel of fortune is spinning right above your stubborn head, while the sun and the moon are facing each other, reflecting their light on the dark water well

You're the fool walking on the strange path, an obnoxiously mysterious soul living with no plan, and yet you're still the only one who holds the power to become whoever you want.