Tomorrow 28.01.2011.
Maybe i'll meet you tomorrow.
What a beautiful day to celebrate.
Your birthday. Birth?
Will you feel your birth in hell?
Or heaven?
Or both?
Will it be hurting you?
It hurts me already.
When my words getting cold and unemotional, and suddenly something happened.
It's not as simple as a b c d, yet it all starts from a b c d.
And as you know, sometimes things are harder than words.
But words are all i have.
No, don't worry dear, i won't change a damn thing.
Some years. Some damn fuckin' years.
I just wanted you to be here. But you much prefer to be in hell.
Or heaven.
Or both.
You couldn't even give me a single word.
And you never heard a word i yelled every single minute.
We'll find each other. Maybe.
I don't know where.
I don't know how.
I'll be with you tomorrow.
