Harold moved a bit further. Just a bit. 




Harold è andato un pò più avanti. Solo un pò.

_______________________________________


I draw my house 
on a postcard I saved years ago
as reminder

It seems such a beautiful building 
to rise up even if
roof doesn’t fit

And it’s not much better than
the one I lent to the concrete outgrown
version of me 

Where all the noise is telling about
the bubbles and waves in the depths 
of the sea 

Golden coat has spread all over the room walls
and damaged trophies have nothing to say  

And I wonder the way
I’ll find the road to the borders
of this scene

And I
wanna know if I’ll ever get back
to play a guitar

Golden coat has spread all over the room walls
and damaged trophies have nothing to say


Golden Coat

H-A-Z-E

We have dirty hands and there’s nothing to say
I am the river that flows
Angry 
Where is a place to rest

I went to Michigan to be one  of a thousand of ants

We fall in love with our swords
it can’t be helped It is the weakest debate for a breeze to blow 
away from the ease 
away like a pawn
away from the mess

I went to Michigan to be one of a thousand of ants

I went to Mexico not to give any failure for granted




Dirty Hands

If I had to choose another way  to loose
It wouldn’t be with you
It wouldn’t be for you

If I had to choose  another game  to loose 
It wouldn’t be with you
It wouldn’t be for you 

Wrapped in a dance so smooth
Feeling half alive 
I forgot the rules of making a skin so dry


Board Games

Have you ever had enough of plucking just one string
Have you ever seen at last a farmer becoming king

Living on a circle means leaving on the dot
Or isn’t this a way to have a clock never late

We are reactions feeding more reactions
We are explosions stealing our own horizon

I’m freezing up a little more Three years have gone 
Since everyone was moved away and left me on the floor

Iron doesn’t use to turn Into gold for hell
And I am just a piece of wood writing maudlin farewells


Knife on the floor

New york seems  so far
my mind erased your smile
New York crumples in my bag 
as my faults flow within the air

summer was cold
we walked along the tide mark
no trace left  of our home
windows get dim hidden in our smoke

Full stops fly blue souls
Choking lungs in an endless dawn
I miss a thrill I don’t know 
New York crumpled long ago


New York

Happy-Go-Lucky

Very first home recording! A bit folkish, but that was the easiest one to record in a room. 
I hope you like it. If you don't, it doesn't matter, it's just a beginning. Every kind of feedback is well-accepted!

Waiting Harold is music/songwriting/science/travels. 

Waiting Harold

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