Unruly weeds lizard the sidewalks
I don't sleep, I have insomnia from my dormitory city
All my life I've filled my shopping cart with illusions
I, I phone, I remote control and I television
Silence we turn, we live, we laugh
But it looks like playback
My banker, it's James Brown
And every month it's payback
Millions of Andy Warhols
Are getting impatient on the train station platform
For a quarter of an hour journey
On the train of glory
We want to be stars, like the stars
Intimacy is spread in prime time, sold on PayPal
We inaugurate the mediocre, more caviar than Big Mac
We prepare a fast food thought
In the kitchens of the audience rating
Bread and games
To calm the hungry bellies
Xanax in the riot
Prozac for the poor
Close your books, if they teach you to hesitate
Beware of wanting to live you can end up existing

Running after my dreams too much, I get heart cramps
When I don't believe anymore I take the pen to get some height
Running too much after my dreams
Running too much after my dreams

With force, curves are drawn under my somniferous gaze
I wanted to unbend the spine running after my chimeras
I flew my dreams in paper planes
And I wanted the castle life by falling asleep in a hutch
The sea is beautiful Sir, I erased the clouds
See the bags under my eyes, they invite me to travel
The sky is beautiful Madam, I drew the picture
Listen to the bird singing locked in its cage

Running after my dreams too much, I get heart cramps
When I don't believe anymore I take the pen to get some height
Running too much after my dreams
Running too much after my dreams

I made worlds
I put words and laughter, tears
And then time, it chiseled my wrinkles and I'm scared
So, I want other smells for my nostrils
I dance, I turn, little ballerina on a powder keg
The poetry I embroider, it's lace to sew
When it's stormy outside, I don't care anymore
I made dreams of nothing, now I have nothing but my dreams
And it's their kidney law that makes me drift far off
I saw my island, you know
Touching the goal, I'm finally trying
Packages of rhyme for my soul to surface
I want to make victims with flower weapons
I slow down the pace
I catch my breath, sometimes
There are my dreams that are late
Facing the dial that turns

Running after my dreams too much, I get heart cramps
When I don't believe anymore I take the pen to get some height
Running too much after my dreams
Running too much after my dreams

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