Astazja

Where am I? I don't know. Who am I? Just let me go. Am I afraid? It can be so. But I'm still here. Why? Cause I know I have yet to grow. I had been thinking: "maybe I'm wrong." "I will just write a sad poem or a song And it will be fine again and for long." "I have to wait, I have to be strong." I've got no clue what's going on. My head is heavy, my thoughts - undone. I'm in pain when I should have a fun. I'm a daughter. But, mom, I should be a son.

If we were married I would never let you go before me 'Cause there may be a land mine, baby And I would rather fertile the soil Than see you Dissolving. If we were married I would never let you go before me 'Cause I don't want to press you on your choices But rather I want you To choose me.

Why women? People often ask me why do I choose women. The answer is simple. Men may seem strong and firm, that's true. But so is a rock, a stone. And where is a stone's sex appeal, huh? Unless it is carved into a shape of a naked athlete Or a nude Greek goddess. But even then it's just a substance, a thing, a dead object. Women, though, are beautiful in their nature And it is much more than appearance. Oh, how lively they are. How emotional. How fragile they seem As if the gentlest touch could break them, Like a soap bubble Or a wine glass. That's why you will always instinctively treat them carefully, with caution. You will never allow a

For me it sometimes looks like a duel or a fight Where your mind is an armour and your tongue is a sword. Watching this bloodless corrida I'm thrilled with each word. I feel like at the noon in the middle of a night. You draw the breath, hold all your good points, balance what's bright, Then block his argument and I may seem to be bored But you make me beg for understanding to my Lord. With your last move you force him to crawl - you were right. I'll train myself up slaying beasts of inanity. I'll think hard and create just to have your eyes on me Because for my heart it is the only way to be. I'm craving battles, I'm only waiting for your

Closets are for clothes. It has been enough time. Let's wax your chest and dress a fancy gown Some eye shadow and lipstick will neither be a crime Just don't forget to put on your glitter-sparkling crown Closets are for clothes. It has been enough time. Cut your hair and put the pack in the spot Oh boy, your faken sideburns look better than fine And how have you binded your chest all that flat? Closets are for clothes. It has been enough time. You don't bring shame but rather shine like a star. No matter if it's a choice or a fixed design The world is yours and you DO know who you are. You are fabulous babe, even if sometimes bizarre.

THE BEAUTIFUL GOD, You are my LORD, You are the author of this world and Your word has created everything. You surpass myriads of tongues With Your marvellous ballads and songs And all Your works are astonishing. LORD, almighty, you created a poem From a mixture of random signs. Your mighty hand has erased some of them To replace them with perfect rhymes. You have put values in me to carry To get people this way to know You. That is how I exist for your glory. LORD, You know well, how much do I owe you.

How dare you speak. You want to deprive me of my rights? You want to take over my body? You want to tell me how to live? What makes you think you're better than me? How dare you speak. You want to kill my liberty? You want to tell me what to eat? You want to tell me how to live? Why do you think you're better than me? How dare you speak. You want to tear my freedom down? You want to preach what to believe? You want to tell me how to live? How dare you speak. Clearly you want to crush my freedom. You see... It has never said it wants to live. Why should I set it free? Because if you try to save it, it only proves your egoism. How dare you s

What is there so special about the tea? How could it ever be so thrilling? Is it the place where you drink it in? Is it a taste from the leaves of a tree? Or a pallid mist that there has to be floating to the light like a nocturnal fly? Or the golden colour that catches the eye? Or maybe the shape of a mug is the key? You see, I must know, because I swear, when you suggested having tea together Something has happened, something rare, Something I wish that could last forever. Oh, what is it about this tea? Is it you or it's just me?