Irreverent elegy

My life is made of emotions, passions and horrors, 'cause when you truly live you can even fall into deep pain My bed is made of small fresh leaves, moving slowly like a requiem My temple is made of dark gloomy trees, coming loose along a black oval path My chant is a desperate and irreverent elegy, composed in honour of those who have no reserve and fear Hordes of maleficent and false sins come back upon me. Shall I ever let my mind wander over the sad effect this filthy disease causes to my limbs and to my heart? I believe the persistence of the thin line of hope is worth this effort I believe its benefice can reach the intensity of full and perpetual delight Nothing is true, all is allowed In every dramatic situation there is a subtended element of absurdity and humor Every dogma contains something unhealthy and corrosive Our identities change every day with our memories We are not always what we really are, 'cause we reinvent ourselves We change our skin and consistence And we lie with innocence, trusting our memory