“Can You Hear Me?”

Can you hear me?

When I sob your name

and rain fills my lungs.

I only wanted,

to tell you how much you mean

to me and all of my life.

But now I’m shot,

Now I’m hit.

Sadly dying.

Slowly fading.

Can you hear me?

Can you save me?

Can you?

Can you?

Can you..

Can you shed?

A little tear

in the corner of your eye?

And hold straight

my crying mother,

as she shakes in the mud.

Can you?

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“A Wish”

I wish

They would turn around.

At least once,

And ask me how I am.

I feel lonely

I am scared.

I am confused.

What I loved I hate and what I hated I love.

And those who once were my friends,

They don’t care.

They don’t ask.

“A Night In The Park”

A ducks flight,

welcomes me in the park.

And a light orange color

is woven in the sky.

I sit on the steps

facing the sun,

life seems stopped.

And the only clock

that I have,

is the setting sun.

It dies slowly,

leaving behind

numerous shades of light.

And as the coldness embraces me,

they too fade away.

I could go home,

Walk away from the horizon,

But I seem drawn,

attracted to it.

The moon shines on my left,

lights up the path.

At the end of the stairs

a couple merges into one,

laughing and kissing.

They too walk my way

towards the unknown.

But I don’t want to venture alone.

So I leave the road,

and return to where I once came from.

Behind me, the moon descends,

and I leave the park.

Yet again, alone.

“My Guitar Silently Plays”

The girl lives in Maine.

The boy can’t complain

about his life in the drains.

Her skin is rich and pale.

They meet in the night,

their love shines all bright.

The mouse and the rat smile,

and my guitar silently plays.

Her dad is angry and sick.

He’s got a gun, makes him leave quick.

He runs through the night.

Her dad shoots his eyes.

They meet in the night.

The trees surround their light.

As the shot hits her head,

and my guitar silently plays.

“There Must Be an Angel”

20 men,

walked down in line.

The fires of hell,

shot from their guns.

A strange blue light,

shined in each other’s eyes,

And the world they thought they knew.

Was gone.

There must be an angel,

hidden somewhere.

Where the trees meet heaven,

and the sky is blue.

There must be an angel,

hidden in our hearts.

He sings some secrets

we don’t want to hear.

He came home,

with half a heart. 

Our eyes could see.

He was made of blue lights.

He slept in the day,

and lived in the night.

When he was angry

he shot in the blind.

There must be an angel,

I really hope there is.

One that can save my baby,

and kill the blue light.

There must be an angel,

where my baby and I

can sing my secret.

I am the light that shines.

“In The Shades of September”

A man walks slowly,

Tilted to the left.

In his hand, a rose,

Lonely as well.

Around him are leaves,

Red, brown and yellow.

They fly in the wind,

Accompanying a swallow.

“Have you picked up our daughter?”

She aks with her grace.

“She’s with her new boyfriend”

He answers amazed.

“Isn’t it strange?” He thought,

Warming his chin.

“That you’re still here with us.

Isn’t it cold with this wind?”

“I wanted to check

On what to me you bring.

A rose, I see.

That’s your usual; sweet”.

“Does it hurt?”

He asked, with his usual grace.

“Now that you’re dead,

will you ever feel safe?”

“I do not know,

but I see you care,

about your dear wife,

so listen now so I can give you a chance”


“Have you not understood?

Your life is to be over.

You have to leave,

Before you die in october”.

“The soldiers will come,

and destroy my grave,

so live while you can,

till you’ll so scared”

And so the swallow flew,

Leaving the dreadfull weather.

And the man cried slowly,

In the shades of september.

“Fuglen”

Har du noen gang hørt en fugl synge?

Det har jeg! Ja! Jeg har selvfølgelig hørt en fugl synge. Jeg vet hvor fine de kan være. Visste dere at…favoritt fuglen min er en svale? Hvorfor? Fordi den er så lett og fin selvfølgelig.

Jeg er en svale, ja. Jeg flyr mellom skyene og tar på dem med mine kjempe fine ving… (ser på armene som er strakt i fly modus.)

Nei, jeg er ikke en svale. Men det er ikke du heller! Så vidt jeg vet  så er det ingen her som er en fugl. Vet dere hvordan jeg vet det? Jeg har nemmlig sett en fugl.

Vel jeg har ikke sett en i virkeligheten. Men jeg har jo sett en på tv! Det var da jeg fikk lov til å se på tv.

Visste dere at svaler ikke går ut? Det sier mamma når jeg sitter foran døren og hører på de andre barna leke. Jeg har aldri møtt dem, men det er greit, fordi svaler har ikke venner. De TRENGER ikke venner. Svaler pusser alltid tennene sine. Svaler hører alttid på moren sin. Fordi svaler har ikke far. Og svaler synger bare når de er triste.

Derfor er det så stille hjemme.

Å plystre, å synge, å høre på musikk eller å ha på lyden på tven; det betyr at man er trist. Og det er ikke vi, mamma og jeg.

Jeg liker ikke helt den regelen. Den får meg til å føle meg innestengt, i et slags bur. Jeg får ikke engang lov til å snakke. Jeg har ting å si. Men de er ikke viktige, fordi svaler har ikke følelser.

Vet du hvordan det føles? (ser på en i publikum)

Du vet vel hvordan det føles!?

JA DU VET hvordan det føles å være innestengt, i et lite rom, i et lite hus, i en liten by, i en liten VERDEN!

NEI! NEI DU VET FAEN MEG IKKE HVORDAN DET FØLES FORDI DU-ER-IKKE-EN-FUGL!!

MEN DET ER JEG! Jeg er en svale, ja. Jeg flyr mellom skyene og tar på dem med mine kjempe fine ving…

JEG HAR KJEMPEFINE VINGER!

Og jeg, JEG KJÆRE MAMMA.

Jeg synger. (sliten smil. Går ut mens en melodi blir plystret)