Oh, the human being. This beautiful walking disaster, that when close its sight to inside itself, can see trembling lights running through the darkness, devilish grining its whitest teeth, its widest eyes. That, when caught in a lust play, gets lost in lifting up full glasses to get them back to the wood surfaces empty, just to fool them all again and again by coming and going, shaking hands blanking thoughts, getting the skies to dim, the eyes to dusk. Inebriating its senses with faux sermons sould out by forked tongues it made by its own risk. Loving, desesperately, in darkest corners, softly mattress, heavenly leather seats.

Oh, the human being. We are so young. We were so young. We were so beautiful. So great. We were meant to be the world, but we got ourselves caught in tiredness and lonelissome yearns. We've lost our shining path by taking pills instead of chances, going to the red when it'd be the green, dancing in summer showers, dipping our swollen feet into translucent mud, digging into our own shit and, widening, madly, smiling, hoping. So, so tired of our own eyes and lamps and streets and no friends and lies and heavy, heavy dreams we play, we smoke, we drink, we go for a ride on the wild side. We go for pirouettes into life edges and we fall into eternity, widening, madly, smiling.


Oh, we're just so tired.