I’ve met you before but I don’t know you. I feel you but I can’t seek you. I remember you though I can’t see you. I hear you even if you’re not talking.
I was one of those party people at night, and a loner at day. A sinner, a dreamer, a lover, a wild soul : that’s all I was, that’s all was left from my mad self. Then the winter came and I felt in a deep sleep, nobody and nothing could wake me up. It was a long and cold winter of my entire life. I didn’t wanted to wake up ever again.
All I could do is : ride.
I am still sleeping, pretending that I have such a great time, pretending. Every Friday night I’m out there, pretending that I have so much fun, lying to myself, fooling myself, letting that cigarette burn as my soul will burn at the gates of Hell. I got this big war in my mind, there’s no peace … It will never be.
As she was telling her story, her cigarette found its end such as her voice.