I keep raising the glass of wine to my lips,
And it's making me dizzy.
Dizzy, dizzy...

Alors, I explode myself into analysis.
In this state, always a delicious torture.
I have to invent my life as I go along, you see.
I have to question my mind before is gone.

Sometimes I live by staggeringly impulse,
sometimes following palpitating emotions.
Sometimes rationality takes control.
I'm never constant in any road.

I cry, laugh, think, hate and love,
I do it all at the same time.
I live oblivious of people,
Time, place and others.
And that might be,
Perhaps,
Not the most prodigious life.
Yes, I'm aware.
Although,
I'd lie if I say I care.
Cuz, even tough is hard to explain this utter madness inside,
I understand and bless my nonsense.
As well as, my loneliness.

And this is me,
a person who have always loved the abstract,
the living chaos, the hermit world..
A girl who'll never accept to be anything you were before.

I might be wrong,
and most likely I am.
But everyone should live as they desire,
everyone should choose as they pleased.
So I decided to always do it wholly.
Never bloodless, never packed.
No days without thinking,
no moments without love.
Always maximizing the pleasures,
Forever minimizing the dull.

And this is it,
I have no real conclusions about life.
After all, if you think about it,
it's impossible; there are none.