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is that eats your flesh with giblets
hatred of the human stronghold of
hatred is the key to the gate, and what's next
head rests on a stick falsehood
and we are still afraid
day-to-day still
and farther and farther
and again, on again, and more
Jam on it's time to get on to do
until you die, and you will not become older
my bulwark is raft with herculean porridge
My city froze in anticipation
My city is bursting from suffering
my town is a graveyard with empty ships
and may be tomorrow it will be different
maybe tomorrow I will see good luck
but it's not like putting
with bursts of red cigarettes
maybe tomorrow will be different
maybe tomorrow become richer
but money is not like putting
subway jumped the parapet
and suffering, there is no
running away from the problem, criticizing cripple sixteen
you will understand that in the age of suffering
is your backbone, he tired tired so strange
from old age old age anger
I turned in your last meal
and the number of troubles will block will block the remains of victories to naught
and again on.