ايكاروس [Icarus] [English translation]

Plans multiply like tomorrow is a lifetime away.

Confused that the man in the mirror has come to look like his father, though still lost.

The eye desires what the hand can’t reach

Baxter machines serenade him and cuff him with tubes

But the song bust be sung

Come tomorrow, you’ll be gone

The eye desires the happiness it fakes

‘Future’ used to mean more than defeated wrinkled retrospection

He threw away years till he threw away teeth

He took a train, and then another, but the tune still flowed him here.

At night he dances alone (as though the machine were a radio)

And the song asks in monotone (if he likes who he’s become)

He had plans but life happens,

Time is as fleeting as a scent that throws you without warning.

What is written on our faces Will eventually be realized

When our wings melt we fall pocketless into our graves.

He taught me the radio song

And asked me to sing it at his grave

Wax and feathers, tomorrow is not what it used to be.