(...teen)

All are out and they're having a boum;
I am home spending a sleepless night inside my wisdom gloom.
I don't need it – I am way above.
Above their fun, above their boum, and, surely, way above their "love".
In my night I'm the ruler of all,
Day will come and I shall be the groaning witness of their fall.
I was made to be cropped to the cream.
I may be dreaming, but I know that it is more than just a dream...

With the moon as my companion
And my bed too hot to sleep in,
I'm not forgetting the oblivion
Those others seem to keep me in.
I'm writing in my diary
That's not meant to be read,
I am feeding upon strawberries
That I keep beside me every sleepless night beside my sleepless bed.

It makes me smile how they care how they look.
I don't mind them saying that I spend my life inside a book;
I know I am cooler than cool,
Even though looking at me they think that I'm the fool.
Should I care – I'd look better than them,
I'd be the queen of boums, and wouldn't wish to spend my life out of PM.
I would be the one admired and adored,
But I would leave so many things that I am interested in unexplored...

With the moon as my companion
And some strawberries at hand,
I'm ignoring the rebellion
Of the others and their so-called "friends".
I wonder why the "class" and "mates"
Are others and not me;
Guess I don't meet the expectations
That the world around has of me; should I try to be the one I cannot be?

Should I try to change my clothes?
A little more of Hennes-black?
Should I party till the metro closes,
Then call home to say I won't be back
Until the morning?
Should I drown my soul in fun?
Should I try to join the moaning?
Do those things I haven't done (yet)?
(Yet) there are things that I can't be –
Can't be cynical and practical,
Be satisfied with my "me",
Knowing I'm a normal mid-statistical,
And with time things will change,
Shouldn't be bothered with the future,
Life is fine and it will rearrange –
It's your age that makes you mature...

No, I don't think that it's the question of age, damn it! It's not the question of being mature or premature,
You and your friends think you're so cool, you think I'm ugly and useless, but it's otherwise, it's all backwards –
You are the ones who spend your lifetime with no use; in all this bustle you call "fun",
Wearing all this make-up on their face to look like dolls only because the void inside reflects upon it,
And not a single normal person could wish to have anything to do with a piece of meat like that,
So it's better to be voluntarily reduced to such, than tempting seduction in a bit more exquisite manner
Than just transpiring sex from every single pore on that meticulously tanned body.
Yes, maybe I am not an eye-candy for you at the moment, maybe you don't care about all the things I could have told you if we only could have a conversation,
But the time will come, and you will realise how wrong you were about me,
You will realise how wrong you were about the life and what's really important in it, but it will be too late!
Too late for you to try to impress me with your friends and your silly behaviour!
Because by the time you realise it I shall no longer be interested, I shall be with somebody who loves and understands me!
Somebody...
Someday...

(...teen)