I am a house of contradictions, whereas you are an apartment of dreams. Some are more broken than others there is no denying that.
The house next door.
Oh, she is a justice court, hungry for the truth, but always one step behind.
If she only followed her own rules instead of the lies of men, then she could have really matched the world, but she fell in love.
If she hadn’t fallen for their lies and sold herself then maybe, just maybe, it would be a court of saints rather than clowns.
But she did not, and now she is dirty and full of hungry men.
A court justice, a court of lies.
In front. Just across the street. The theater lies.
He is not popular, he says it does not matter, that he did not do it for fame, but deep down we both know it was his dream all along.
You know about dreams, don’t you?
Well, the theater makes dreams come true.
On some of his best days, there are a couple of dozens of people sitting with him, forgetting for a moment.
But isn’t it all a lie?
He tells them lies.
He sells them lies.
Every night he becomes for whoever comes in.
Every night he forgets why he is there and plays.
Every night he lies.
Every night he tells himself this is what he was constructed for. That this is his passion.
But tell me, how can you know your own passion when you can’t even recognize yourself? Too changed to be the same anymore, but not enough to finally lose yourself.
When did you stop being yourself? At the opening of the first piece or at the vibration of the ovation?
A theater of plays. A theater of lies.
Behind sits the old cathedral.
There for a long time and still not used to the passing of the years.
They don’t really lie to anyone, not anymore, too grimy and rotten to actually produce a sound. One that matters anyway.
No, they don’t lie to people as much as they lie to themselves.
Telling each other that the secrets inside their walls are nothing but memories intended to be forgotten. Oh, but the lies they tell themselves to conceal their guilt are the heavier of them all, and yet they can’t contrive to shut the doors for good and let the time swipe them gone.
In their dreams, they live as free characters, nameless and faceless.
In their dreams, the mistakes they have performed melt away like the gold they stole.
In their dreams, they are granted the clemency they all so desperately asked for.
They screamed at the sky for mercy only to find out there is no one up there, and there is no mercy for the guilty.
They yelled at the sky for mercy only to find out the only answer comes from screeching to a mirror. Behind sits the old cathedral, too grimy and rotten to produce a sound.
A cathedral of devotions. A cathedral of lies.
Next breaths the house of contradictions. You met me since before you were born. In a way, we are one to the other.
I am a house of contradictions. I tell the truth and I tell the lies.
I am everything you run from, but I'm also where you wish you could run to. I am the stillness that you love, but the loneliness you hate. I am full of living creatures, but too lifeless within to be proclaimed alive.
I am a house of contradictions.
I was always like this and I will prevail like that. Too big for one soul, but not big enough for more. That is the point at the end, isn't it? It seems like it's never enough. You love to be with me, but it's only when you can't leave that you are desperate to do so.
Do you hate me or just who you become when you’re with me?
Did you lie when you said you wanted to come home?
The house is where you store all your damaged memories, the collection of fears.
A house of contradictions. A house of lies.
And of course, in the middle of all of it, you dream. The apartment of dreams they call you. Head among the hollow sky, and greedy feet aiming to the future.
An apartment full of dreams and love. They say hope is smaller than fear but enough to shelter a soul.
An apartment full of dreams and lies. Because what is a dream but a lie we wish would come true? What is hope but a lie we tell ourselves to survive?
In the end, you are just like the rest of us.
Lies of love.
Lies of fame.
Lies of guilt.
Lies of fear.
Lies of hope.
An apartment of hope and dreams. A new and young start, never alone between all the other broken places.
You are an apartment.
Hope, the root to fear but the escape from guilt, the daughter of love and the lover of fame.
Hope, the one found in every place. The light after the darkest hour, but you're also the end before the darkness.
The apartment of hope. The apartment of lies.
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